Fear of Falling
by skygirl55
Summary: Det Rick Rodgers was handsome, sexy, funny and unquestionably Kate Beckett's favorite among her coworkers. Their two year partnership led to her calling him a friend-more so, if he was interested, but that was the problem: he seemed to be interested in every available female-except her. Caskett AU. For Castle Ficathon 2017.
1. Chapter 1

**Fear of Falling**

Det Rick Rodgers was handsome, sexy, funny and unquestionably Kate Beckett's favorite among her coworkers. Their two year partnership led to her calling him a friend-more so, if he was interested, but that was the problem: he seemed to be interested in every available female-except her. For Castle Ficathon 2017

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 **A/N:** There are 10 chapters.

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 **Chapter 1**

"Okay, okay—settle down everyone." Captain Montgomery cleared his throat and the twenty people surrounding him hushed their conversations in anticipation of his speech. "Don't worry, I'm not going to make this long or drawn out, but I would like everyone to join me and raise their glass in congratulations to Detective Rodgers and his team for their triple arrest today. The streets of New York are certainly safer tonight because of them."

The man of the hour stepped up beside his superior and gave a gracious nod. "Thank you, Captain, but I could not have done this without my colleagues Detectives Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito. They absolutely deserve…almost as much credit as I do." A smirk crossed his face and he watched as their captain chuckled. "I'm kidding; I'm kidding—of course every member of our team is important especially my lovely co-team leader." He nodded to the lone female of the group and she dipped her chin briefly in acknowledgement.

The captain raised his glass and scanned his eyes over the group from the Twelfth precinct who had made their way to McGill's that night to celebrate. "Hear, hear!"

Rick Rodgers took a sip out of his beer then reached out his hand to shake the captain's hand. Despite what his father accused him of, he truly did not do his job solely for the accolades and nights of free drinking at the bar. Sure, recognition was nice, particularly since they had made one hell of an arrest that morning, but he didn't get up every morning and pick up his badge and gun with the intent of being praised.

Then again, he thought as he caught a glimpse of a blonde woman towards the end of the bar giving him an ever-growing smile, maybe some praise and recognition was warranted. He had removed three drug-dealer-slash-murderers from the street and that deserved to be celebrated, didn't it? Plaques and badges he didn't need, but a night with a beautiful woman? Well, he'd never say no to that.

* * *

"Twenty says he walks out of the bar with that one in the next ten minutes."

"No way! It'll take him at least fifteen to close the deal."

"How do you figure that?"

"He'll want at least one more free drink from her before they leave."

"Ah, touché."

Kate Beckett clicked her tongue with disapproval. She gazed across the high-top table at her colleagues with narrowed eyes and said, "You guys are almost as disgusting as he is."

Ryan and Esposito turned around to face her, clearly borderline offended. "We are not!"

She hummed into her beer bottle. "Yes, you are. You play into his delusion that leaving a bar alone is something shameful; you egg him on."

Esposito shrugged helplessly. "We're guys—it's what we do."

Kate sighed and finished off her drink before tapping her fingers along the edge of the bottle. Unfortunately, she had no basis for argument against Espo's point. She came face to face with the differences in behavior between men and women nearly every minute of every hour of her working career. Such was the curse of not only being a woman in a male dominated industry, but having her desk butted up against three of those said males; her teammates.

Really, most days it wasn't so bad. She could appreciate most of the sports talk and they kept the sexual innuendos pretty well in check while she was around them. Their highly sexualized tendencies only became bothersome when they went out after work, which was not all that often mostly because she didn't like to watch the show Rodgers put on while he was peacocking and hoping to score. Esposito was right—he probably wasn't behaving any worse than any ordinary male would. His act just happened to bother her…well, because of that little feeling inside her gut she desperately tried to forget was there: jealousy.

Rick Rodgers was handsome, sexy, funny, and one hell of a good cop. He was unquestionably her favorite among her three partners and the one she chose to share a car with without any hesitation. Their two year partnership had certainly had its rocky moments, but they'd made it through and she easily called him a friend—more than a friend, if he was interested, but that was actually the problem: Rick Rodgers seemed to be interested in any reasonably attractive single female in the city—except her.

And, okay, rationally she knew that sleeping with her partner was probably a really bad idea, because there were only a million ways for it to go horribly, horribly wrong, but it wasn't just sexual acts she was interested in; he didn't even flirt with her! And he flirted with everyone! Including men! (Well, not always men, but sometimes…) And, god, she hated how petty that was of her. She had never been the type to want a man to flirt with her to make her feel special, but something about Rick Rodgers made her want it even though it didn't make any sense at all.

"Yo Beckett, you want another?"

"Wha—ah, oh yeah." Kate stammered after being pulled from her own musings. She forced her gaze away from the man grinning at the blonde at the corner of the bar and turned towards Ryan. "Yeah, I'll take another; thanks."

* * *

Staring down at his phone with a knitted brow, Rick felt his stomach flip with a mixture of irritation and disappointment. He should have known. It wasn't shocking—expected, actually—but yet somehow it blindsided him every time. Every single time.

How could a text message cut so deep? Leave it to Jackson Hunt to perfect that kind of skill.

"Hey."

The soft voice of his partner pulled Rick from his contemplation. He flipped the phone over so none of the display would show, forced a smile across his face, and turned to face her. Her cheeks were a bit rosy and her eyes far more brown than green in that particular moment, but they sparkled a bit nonetheless. He felt the tension in his shoulders melt away at her presence as it often did so he breathed out an easy, "Hey Kate; having a good evening?"

She shrugged. "'s fine. What about you? Thought you'd be long gone by now with what's-her-name."

"Oh." So she'd seen him with the blonde—Melody. Not that shocking since McGill's was a rather compact establishment.

She gave him a patronizing expression and folded her arms over her chest. "Couldn't get her to commit?"

He let out a breathy laugh. "Ah, no, no she invited me back to her place—right before she asked if I was allergic to cats. Apparently she has four." Kate cringed and he continued with. "Yeah, I wasn't really in the mood for that level of crazy."

She hummed. "I thought crazy people were _a-may-zing_ in bed."

He gave her a side glance, knowing she was mocking something he had said once. Well, probably more than once. Not much in the mood for joking after his father's text, he merely gave a noncommittal, "Yeah, well…"

She tapped his arm with the back of her hand and said, "C'mon Rodgers; I'm just teasing you. What's the matter? Are you really that disappointed about Blondie?"

A bit too exhausted to come up with a better excuse, he merely flipped his phone over and nudged in her direction. The text message conversation was still displayed on the screen so she was easily able to read the last message and she chose to do so aloud.

"'Heard about your latest bust. Hope all your paperwork's in order; a screw up this big could end your career.'"

He sighed, held up his beer bottle, looked down the neck to see if any remained inside, and then tipped it over to let the last few drops fall on his tongue. "One time and you're branded for life, I guess."

The worst part was: the mistake that had been made wasn't even _his_. Yes, as the lead detective he was responsible for those beneath him, which was why he ultimately took responsibility for the paperwork screw up that led to a murderer going free. As far as mishaps went, it was a minor one: a few wrong data points on the warrant. Hell at least they had a warrant, but it wasn't enough; the killer still got off on the technicality and his perfect, never-screwed-up-a-day-in-his-life father never— _never_ —let him live it down. Over two years had passed, but Rick imagined in two decades they'd still be having the same conversation points and he hated it.

Kate's gentle hand landed on his bicep as she placed the phone back in front of him. "I'm sorry."

Rick shrugged, picked up the phone, and slid it into his pants pocket. "Oh well you know—he wouldn't have the reputation of FBI's biggest badass if he took it easy on his own son." Successful FBI agent not to mention highly decorated NYPD detective before he was recruited—yes, Hunt was legendary for many things and being a kind, gentle soul was not among them.

"Well, uh, there's got to be some girl here in this bar who can take your troubles away, right?" Kate suggested, though the half-laugh she gave was a fake one, he could tell. "I know Ryan and Espo are gone but, uh, I could try and be your wingman."

He laughed and pushed himself away from the bar stool. "Well as much as I'd like to see that happen, I don't think so, Beckett. I'm just going to head out."

She nodded and began to follow him. "I, ah, I'd actually just come over to say goodbye; I'm calling it a night too."

"Then I'll walk you to your subway station."

They stepped out into the cool night air and walked to the next street corner in a comfortable silence. Before they could turn and go downtown, a loud group of typical New Yorkers with absolutely no concept of sidewalk courtesy began to shove their way by. Rick instinctively grabbed on to Kate's elbow and pulled her body closer to his as he pressed himself up against the window of a closed deli to wait for the group to pass. Once they had, she muttered out a thank you and they continued on their way.

"Can I, ah, as you something weird?"

"The weirder the better," he replied, hoping for a distraction from the uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

"Why have you never tried to sleep with me?"

Rick's feet came to a halt from the pure shock of the question. It wasn't until she turned and faced him with an expectant expression that he croaked out, "What?"

"You heard me."

"Wha—I, uh…why would you ask that?"

She shrugged and then kept walking at a pace that he had to scurry to keep up with. "I'm a little bit drunk and I'd like to know. Is it because I'm not blonde?"

"Obviously not." He replied quickly. Yes, he did favor blondes, but certainly not as a rule and had enjoyed the company of many brunettes and redheads in his bed.

"So then why?"

He groaned and grumbled while trying to think of an appropriate answer. Truthfully, no one had ever asked him that question before and he struggled with a reasonable response. Why hadn't he tried to sleep with her? He found her attractive, certainly, but there was just something about her that screamed "off limits" in his mind—and had since the day they met. "Well, for starters, we're coworkers and that's never a good idea."

"You slept with Hastings."

He—oh. Right. He had done that. "That's different—she's not on our team," he said as his only defense. Sleeping with Hastings had turned out okay since apparently all she was interested in was one roll in the hay to get him out of her system—which she had literally said to him as she was redressing—but he hadn't done it with any of the other females in the homicide division for his original reasoning.

"I don't sleep with teammates, which is why I've never propositioned you…or Ryan or Esposito," he added in an attempt to deflect the conversation away from the curiosity now stirring inside him.

Why _had_ he never tried to sleep with Beckett? Further to the point—why did Beckett care? Did she—oh, dear—did she want to sleep with him?!

"I see."

"Why—why are you so curious all of a sudden? Are you interested?" he challenged, half expecting her to laugh and immediately refuse him, but instead he saw her cheeks flush a red hue, even with only dim streetlights illuminating their path.

"Of course not."

"Oh my god." He laughed, forgetting his father's text for the first time since its arrival. "You do! You want to know what I'm like in bed—to see if all the rumors are true, I imagine. Spoiler alert: they are."

She gave him a not-so-gentle shove with her left hand. "Get a grip, Rodgers."

But he couldn't! Not when she'd opened this can of worms. "But you are interested, aren't you?"

"No, not really."

"Hmm let's examine that response, shall we?" He mused aloud, now having far more fun than he ever anticipated.

"Oh god, stop—just forget it."

He watched her fold her arms over her chest but ignored the action and continued down his path of entertainment. "Can't forget it—it's out there now. So you say that you're 'not really' interested in knowing what I'm like in bed, but you didn't say you were completely uninterested, which means I can only conclude that you are, in fact, a little bit interested—and that's interesting."

She grunted and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine—okay; you got me. Maybe I was one percent interested in knowing, but now I'm not because you've just reminded me once again what an annoying pain in the ass you are!"

He grinned over at her. "Mm no, you definitely had to be more than one percent interested."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because you never pursue something you're one percent interested in. For instance: I'm one percent interested in knowing what it would be like to walk on the moon. However, as I have severe motion sickness issues, I really don't want to vomit my way into outer space so I haven't pursued it."

She stopped walking and gaped at him. "Did you just compare sleeping with you to walking on the moon?"

He barked out a laugh. "Not intentionally, but it would be an out of this world experience, so let's go with it."

"You're ridiculous."

He continued to chuckle to himself as they walked the next half block to her subway station. As she slowed her pace and glanced back over her shoulder at him, the realization hit him: she had asked him a ridiculous question on purpose—to distract him from his father's text. She wasn't _actually_ interested in sleeping with him or curious as to why he wasn't interested in sleeping with her. Of course! That made much more sense!

"Well, uh, oh!"

He heard Kate gasp when his arms closed around her shoulders, but that didn't stop him from hugging her, particularly not when her hands came to rest gently at his waist. He gave her a several second long squeeze and then pulled back, grinning. "Thanks for that distraction—I really, really needed it."

She let out a nervous sounding laugh. "Oh, well, sure; of course. What are partners for, right?"

"Speaking of—I have to thank you again for all your help these past two weeks; I really couldn't have made the arrest without your help." Yes, he had pieced together the final clue that led to the arrest, but before that Ryan, Esposito, and Kate in particular had been instrumental to finding and pulling together everything needed for him to make that final leap.

She nodded. "Of course—we were all just doing our jobs, though."

"Still, I appreciate it. I know this co-team-leader thing hasn't always been the easiest," he said, referring to their position which was barely six months old. When he'd first joined the team at the Twelfth, Kate had technically been his superior since his level of detective had been downgraded after the warrant incident and his subsequent precinct transfer, but after over a year he'd worked his way up again and rather than split up their team and risk destroying their impressive closure rate, their captain had thankfully agreed to the co-leader arrangement.

She offered a small smile. "Well, I think we've found our rhythm now."

He bobbed his head. "I agree. Goodnight, Beckett."

"Hey." She stopped him just as he turned away and so he looked back, curious until she said, "You're a really good detective, Rodgers."

He merely gave her a smile. "'night Beckett."

"'night." She echoed before turning and disappearing down into the subway.

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 **A/N:** Thanks for reading - hope you guys will join me for this 10 chapter ride


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Stepping off the elevator on the homicide floor, Rick covered a yawn with the palm of his right hand while nodding a hello to a few of his coworkers. He took a drink from the extra-large size of coffee he held and continued to shuffle his way to his desk. He had no idea what had made the prior night's sleep so terrible, but waking up every hour had not left him well rested at all. Unfortunately for him it was a Monday and Monday's usually dragged.

"Morning."

He hummed, stifling another yawn, before greeting his partner and desk-mate. "Morning."

She grinned at him, seeming unusually chipper for eight-twenty-five on a Monday morning. As he shrugged off his blazer and hung it over the back of his chair, he heard her ask, "How was your weekend in DC?"

Ah, his big weekend away visiting his parents—not exactly an exciting endeavor for a thirty-five-year-old man such as himself. Really, it wasn't bad; he was simply mad at himself for mentioning it to anyone before he went which thereby encouraged them to inquire about it upon his return. "Oh, um, fine I guess."

"You guess?"

He sighed and took another sip of his coffee, trying to backtrack on his less than positive-sounding statement. "No, it was ok. Weather was good and I had a nice time with my mother yesterday. We went to brunch and then walked around before I had to get the bus."

"How was the game? You had tickets right—oh. Sorry."

Ever the observant one, Kate had instantly translated his flat expression into one of negativity. That was the part of Friday he regretted the most—talking about how he'd purchased tickets for he and his father to go to a Nationals game. Not just tickets, either— _great_ tickets, right on the first baseline. He doubted he'd ever sat that close—at least not at a major league game before—and he was sure his father would enjoy being that close to the action.

 _Right_.

"It's fine; it's not your fault. I knew it was a long shot that my father would actually have a good time—I'm still not sure that's actually possible for him—but it's just—no forget it." He quickly terminated his complaints, shook his head and turned towards his computer screen.

"What."

"I'm an asshole," he muttered, cursing to himself. What a moron he was—an inconsiderate moron. Going on about his daddy issues in front of Kate of all people.

"Why?"

As she sounded genuinely confused he flicked his gaze in her direction to clarify his position further. "Because I'm complaining to you about my father not having fun with me at the baseball game but I still have both my parents; just forget it."

He'd known for well over a year about the untimely death of Kate's mother; he'd actually been the first of the trio of males to learn not that she was no longer living, but that her life had been taken by an unknown criminal. That January day, not more than six months into the onset of their partnership, he found her crying alone in a stairwell and become immediately concerned. She confessed the truth to him: that day was the tenth anniversary of her mother's murder. The investigator in him had wanted to ask a million questions, but instead he let her be and covered for her with Ryan, Esposito, and the captain for the next hour to give her some space.

Shortly thereafter he'd made one of the biggest mistakes of his life: pulling up her mother's case file. She'd caught him and been unbelievably furious. She shouted at him in front of everyone, which was how Ryan and Esposito found out the truth, and subsequently refused to talk with him for several days. He later found out she'd even asked Montgomery for a transfer, but he hadn't budged and instead encouraged her to make amends. It had taken nearly a full week of groveling for her to acknowledge his existence once more. After another few days of cooling off she even apologized for her aggressive reaction and simply requested he not look into the case ever again and he'd happily agreed.

Ever since, she'd been slightly more open about the subject of her mother, but not by much. He could tell she became sad if their topics of conversation became too family-focused and thus he tried not to rub any family events in her face. Now, he was the idiot actually complaining about a parent in front of her and he couldn't believe she hadn't called him out for it. Instead, she shocked him by doing the exact opposite.

"Rodgers," she began, her head tilted just a little bit to the left. "Just because I lost my mom it doesn't make your feelings invalid."

She gazed encouragingly at him for fifteen more seconds before he rounded his shoulders and let out a long exhale, returning to the sentiments he'd almost said before.

"It's just…I know he has an important job—if anyone gets that a few events and holidays need to be missed here or there for the greater good, it's me, right? He didn't want to stay for the whole game because he had an early flight the next morning and that's fine, but I just…" Rick sighed and rubbed his fingers over his upper lip as visions of his father awkwardly shifting in his seat every five minutes while subtly glancing at his watch each time flashed in his mind.

"I just wish that when he was there, he was there, you know? And not sitting there to placate me while counting down the minutes until he can leave."

"But he cares enough to placate, right? Some people don't even get that."

He bobbed his head. "True." Assuming he didn't have a previous work obligation his father rarely said no to one of his suggested invites, but then again it was the way he acted while they were at said event that discouraged Rick from inviting him to more things. Sure, now and then they had what he could safely categorize as a good time, but mostly Rick felt like he remained that twelve-year-old boy, desperately trying to get his father to throw a baseball to him one last time before disappearing off to make another important work phone call.

"I know, I know—doesn't make it less frustrating. Where'd he jet off to this time?"

"El Paso."

"Drug bust?"

"What he does best," Rick said in a sing-song manner. Jackson Hunt had not achieved notoriety for writing parking tickets that was for sure.

Though the specific details had never been revealed to him (and Rick very much doubted they ever would be), he knew his father had stumbled upon the seedy, drug-filled underbelly of New York during the early days of his career. During his tenure he'd spent multiple years undercover ultimately using that status to dismantle a major drug ring in the city, thus earning him the bulk of his NYPD notoriety—and ultimately leading to his career at the FBI.

The level of knowledge about drugs, how to traffic them, and the business side of dealing them that his father possessed far exceeded Rick's scope of knowledge. Sometimes, it was downright disturbing, and as a kid it had certainly been eye-opening, particularly all the times his father threatened him with untold horrors if he ever became mixed up the drug scene. All these factors made his father an impressive agent, but unfortunately not the world's greatest dad.

"Oh!" Rick quickly turned his head back in the direction of his partner's desk. She gazed at him curiously. "Hey, wait—weren't you and your dad going to a game, too?" He vaguely recalled her sharing that detail with him on Friday shortly before he'd left to get his bus to DC.

She nodded and then shrugged. "Yeah but it got rained out in the third inning."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's fine; we can always go to another. You…you could, ah, come with us sometime if you wanted."

Rick almost laughed at her invitation that clearly only happened because she felt bad about his negative experience. "You don't have to take pity on me, Beckett."

"I'm serious! I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind at all. Actually, he'd probably love it—you two really got along well at the NYPD picnic last summer, right?"

He pressed his lips together, trying to think back to the event in question. Ah, yes, he did remember Kate's father: a kind, soft-spoken man, clearly beaming with pride at the success of his only child. He had run into the elder man while grabbing a soda from a bucket of ice and, when he'd read the man's nametag, he introduced himself and they'd had a ten minute conversation about Kate, baseball, and the man's profession as a law professor. "Oh right—yeah he was a cool guy."

She grinned. "Great—so what do you say?"

"Oh…" He hedged. It wasn't that he didn't want to hang out with his partner—or his partner and her father—outside of work. He was sure he would have a fine time with the Becketts. It was, after all, easy to have a good time at a Mets' game assuming everyone in attendance actually wanted to be there. Yet, at the same time, he feared becoming the third wheel in what was presumably a father-daughter tradition. "Let me think about it, okay?"

She merely shrugged. "Sure, I don't want to twist your arm into it or anything—just putting the offer out there."

"I appreciate it."

"Guys?"

Rick looked up barely two minutes later to see Ryan approaching their joined desk. He thumbed in the direction of the elevator and said, "There's a body in a dumpster downtown."

He stood, arched his back, and then scooped up his coffee cup. Looking down at his partner he said, "Ah, nothing like a good dumpster body to kick off a Monday morning."

She merely laughed and said, "C'mon; I'm driving."

* * *

Sitting at her desk, Kate continually found her attention being torn away from the arrest report she was supposed to be typing up; the sight to her left was simply far too tantalizing. An ordinary observer would probably have found nothing interesting at all in watching a man pull photos and evidence bags off the so-called "murder board" and file them into the box labeled with their latest case's number, but for Kate the visual involved some of her favorite sights starting with Richard Rodgers' backside.

She knew it was wrong; she knew she should not be thinking of her coworker in that way, but she just couldn't help herself. He was just so damned attractive! In addition to what she recognized to be inappropriate gawking at the way his dark jeans fit snuggly over his ass, she grazed her eyes over his hands and forearms, exposed by the way he'd rolled up the sleeves to his light blue button-down, as he removed each item from the board. She shivered involuntarily when the image of those hands splayed across her thighs popped into her head and then chastised herself immediately for it.

No—no! She was supposed to be actively stopping herself from having sexual fantasies about her partner not encouraging them. But it was just so hard to stop!

Two years earlier when Rick first walked into the Twelfth precinct with a small cardboard box of belongings tucked under one arm Kate honestly was not sure what to make of him. When her former partner was unable to return to work after the car accident he was in while off duty she had expected a new partner, but she had not expected that man to be the son of the legendary Jackson Hunt. Though Montgomery assured her she would retain the team lead, she had to initially admit to fearing they would butt heads both due to the fact that he was a former lead himself and the fact that his father was practically NYPD royalty. Within two days of their partnership, Kate realized that was not going to be a problem.

Rick could certainly be a ham, and a show-off, and had been known to gloat about a particularly important evidentiary find or arrest he made, but he was by every account a team player. He took orders from her and never let her see any negative feelings or disgust with the fact that she was in charge. In fact, other than their obvious facial similarities, Kate quickly realized that he was different than his father in nearly every way—well, except for the fact that they were both exceptional cops.

The more cases they worked together the more Kate grew to respect and admire his investigative talents. Rick was a sharp, clever, and a highly observant individual. His speed sometimes astounded her. Where she needed to study a scene and take her time, he seemed to be able to glance once at an area and pick up three clues that would have taken her at least twenty minutes. The one downside of this was that he sometimes jumped the gun and ended up being wrong, but he was good enough about admitting his mistakes that she didn't mind.

As time passed, they grew closer both as partners and as friends. Their well-perfected routine inside an interrogation room was infamous throughout the precinct, but they got along just as well outside the box, joined together by many shared interests. In fact, just about the only thing Kate didn't like about her partner was his womanizing tendencies, which in her opinion involved too much over-sharing and were at times downright absurd. Then again, those sentiments were probably yet another manifestation of her jealousy.

Though she recognized Rick as handsome from the moment they met, Kate's romantic feelings for him built up gradually under the surface until they bubbled over one night while they were staying late, staring at a murder board, and wracking their brains trying to find the next clue. He'd volunteered to make more coffee but before he walked away he'd squeezed her forearm, stepped in close and said, "Don't worry Beckett; we'll figure it out." Then, he'd winked at her, and she'd fallen: hook, line, and sinker.

To that day, well over a year later, she could not have explained in words why that moment, so seemingly insignificant, had been _the moment_ but it was. Ever since then she'd begrudgingly found herself a swooning school-girl around him, waiting for him to wake up one morning and realize that they would, in fact, be a perfect couple. Well, maybe not perfect, but she'd make a much better companion for him than whatever blonde was his flavor-of-the-week. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to share that opinion.

As Kate crossed the year mark of her crush-turned-more for her partner, she told herself it was time to move on. Never before in her life had she been that hung up on a man. She was too independent, too focused on her career. Historically, if she was interested in someone and in a short period of time it became obvious that interest was not mutual, she moved on with her life, and that's what she needed to do with Rick.

But then he would smile at her. Compliment her. Or, on rarer occasion, pull her into a hug at random and back down the rabbit hole she would go. There was simply something about him she could not make herself get over no matter how much she tried or wanted to. And, okay, maybe she didn't try _that_ hard, but she tried a little bit…until those times she gave up entirely, like before their case began two days earlier when she invited him to go to a baseball game with she and her father. And, okay, partly her invitation was born from trying to make him feel better after he'd tried to be a good son and it had blown up in his face, but the other part was definitely a desire to hang out with him outside of work in the hopes that he would see the potential for, well, more.

"Like what you see?"

"Hmm? Oh, no—no." Kate quickly tried to recover from being startled by Rick's voice and casually turned back to her computer, though she was certain her cheeks had a pinkish hue. That's what she got for gawking at him and getting caught doing it!

"I was, ah, just thinking about how to word this one sentence and, you know, staring blankly off into space."

"Sure you were," he said, his tone teasing. He then placed the lid on the case box and reached for the eraser to clean up the writing they'd done on the white board's surface. "Thanks for working on that report, by the way—I owe you one."

She merely shrugged and continued tapping away at her keyboard. "It's fine. I know you have your, ah," she cleared her throat as she forced out the word, "date."

"Oh I wouldn't call it that," he said, dropping the eraser back onto the board's tray and sashaying his way back to his desk. "More of a…social get together."

"Whatever." She half-laughed while also hoping he wouldn't tell her any more about the event.

"You really are the best, Beckett! Have a good—oh! I nearly forgot!" He had already walked three steps past her desk when he stopped suddenly and scurried back. "Would you and your father be free for next Friday night's Mets game? Saw some really great seats for sale online and I thought we could all go—if your offer still stands, I mean."

"Oh!" Kate grinned as she took a moment to recover from the surprise of his invitation. She had figured she'd never hear from him on the subject again—which would have been fine, but this was much, much better! "Um, yeah I'm free, but I can check with my dad. I'll let you know tomorrow, okay?"

He bobbed his head. "Tomorrow works—thanks again Beckett!"

"Thank you!" she called out after him then mentally cursed herself for a comment that sounded so silly. Then, as she heard the elevator doors chime as they opened, she covered her hand over her mouth so no one else would see the grin exploding across it. She was going to a Mets game with Rick—and she couldn't wait!

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you all so much for your reviews & follows!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Slipping inside the tight alleyway between a bodega and a check cashing storefront just off Second Avenue, Rick Rodgers leaned his head back against the bricks, pushed out a long breath, and shut his eyes, thankful for the respite—even if it would only be for a few minutes.

During his thirteen year tenure with the NYPD, Rick had faced many difficult days: busts that went south, firefights that broke out when trying to serve warrants, cuffing a sobbing criminal who swore they hadn't meant to commit whatever crime they were accused of. Picking a most difficult day among the ranks would have been difficult, but Rick was certain that day would easily slide its way into the top five, if not the top three.

The morning had begun as ordinary as any other with him and his team desk-bound catching up on paperwork since they were between homicides. A few hours later, just as they'd begun to argue over which of them got to choose that day's lunch location, their captain emerged from his office looking a bit panicked. Evidently, a tourist helicopter had lost control and crashed into a residential building in the city, doing vast damage to the building it hit directly and some additional damage to the building beside it. Montgomery told them the situation called for "all hands on deck" and any available team was to report to southern Manhattan.

Naturally, Rick's team instantly left their desks, but it wasn't until they were already in the car that the cross street location Montgomery provided registered in his mind as unsettlingly close to his own residence. When they arrived, he realized why. His apartment building was the one that suffered "collateral damage" from the now-burning helicopter, but he didn't have time to focus on that. As he was trained to do, he pushed such personal thoughts and emotions from his mind and instead focused on following the instructions relayed to him from the crisis management team on scene.

Several hours later, the initial catastrophes had passed and now, with a brief moment of down time, reality was beginning to set in along with the horrors of the day. Throughout everything he'd done, from comforting his extremely distraught neighbors to carrying the burnt body of a girl he estimated to be no older than eight to a waiting MedEvac, Rick tried to remain strong—to be a man about it, as his father would have said—but as the chaos calmed and his brain began to think and process he realized he needed a break. He just needed a few minutes to shut his eyes and take a few deep breaths then he'd go out and find the scene manager, obtain a task, and rejoin the fray.

Rick was only one minute into his relaxation time when he heard a sniffling sound and realized he was not the only one to think the alley was a good place for a temporary respite. He opened his eyes and scanned them across the shadowed area, but did not initially see anything. It wasn't until his second sweep that he saw the toes of a black boot just barely peeking out from behind a dumpster filled with cardboard boxes. Though he did not generally consider himself an expert in women's footwear, he would have recognized those boots anywhere.

Setting his jaw and quickly rubbing his fingers beneath his nose, he walked ten feet towards her and found her seated on an overturned plastic bucket that rested beside the brick building exterior. She sat with her elbows on her knees, heel of her hands resting against her forehead, her head bowed and completely hidden from view. Without saying a word, he crouched down and placed a hand on one of her forearms, brushing the side of her arm gently with his thumb. She didn't look up, which led him to guess she already knew it was him who'd entered the alleyway.

"Guess you caught me." She sniffed out after almost another minute of silence.

"No. Turns out we both had the same escape plan."

"Oh." She lifted her head and brushed her fingertips beneath her eyes to rub away the tears resting there. She then sat up, folded her arms tight over her chest, and offered him the smallest fraction of a smile. "Hi."

"Hi." He echoed. "You okay?"

She shook off his question. "How are you?"

He sighed, unsure of how to answer such an impossibly complicated question, so instead he deflected with a half-joke that was actually mostly true. "Oh, you know, living in the blissful world of denial."

"I'm sorry about your building."

He shrugged. "What are ya gonna do, right? Damn helicopters." She smiled a bit larger and he considered that as a win.

"Is yours one of the ones on the corner that was…"

"Nah—it's on the opposite side."

"That's good, right?"

He flattened his lips. "Not sure anything is 'good' about this situation, Beckett."

Her eyes flashed with remorse. "I—I didn't mean that-"

"I know you didn't." He cut her off with a reassuring look and then stood before extending his hand towards to help her do the same. She took his hand and pulled herself up, but did not move forward in the alley. Instead, she hovered by the side of the dumpster, cupping her elbows with the opposite hands.

"Need another minute?" he guessed. She nodded and so he stepped around to the other side of her, resting a shoulder against the dumpster, waiting patiently for her to be ready to return with him to the scene.

"I just…" She began a few seconds later, then shook her head as though the words were too terrible to utter aloud. "I just keep seeing that little girl you carried to the helicopter."

Rick felt the back of his neck prickle at the memory. He wasn't aware she had been close enough to see at the time, but in retrospect he was sorry that she had been. Without question, it was the worst, most gut-wrenching thing he had ever seen in his life—and that was saying something. "Yeah, ah, the—the EMTs didn't think she was going to make it." Given that he'd been stunned she was still alive based on his visual assessment of her grave injuries, that belief didn't shock him, though he still wished the best for her and her family.

A moment later he felt Kate's hand squeeze around his right bicep before she said, "C'mon. Let's see what else we can do before we go home."

"Yeah, I—oh." His voice flattened out when the word registered in his mind.

 _Home_.

Yeah, that was going to be a problem.

Kate stepped around in front of him, brow furrowed. "What is it?"

He shook his head and continued walking out of the alley. "Nothing, nothing—I just…I think it just hit me that I can't exactly go home."

"You—oh shit! Rodgers I'm sorry. I didn't—I wasn't-"

"Don't worry about it." He shook off her embarrassment. "I forgot for the moment, too."

As he was so used to being in work-mode, Rick had to continually remind himself that he, for perhaps the first time in his career, knew a large percentage of the victims. True, only one person in his building had been injured, but for safety reasons all residents had to be evacuated so he'd taken it upon himself to clear the building along with representatives from the FDNY. In speaking with the safety investigators later in the day, they'd estimated the building would be closed for at least a few days until a full assessment could be made, but by that point he'd returned to his brain to its compartmentalized work-mode and not processed that the evacuation applied to him as well.

"Well, you can stay with me tonight."

"Oh, no Beckett that's not necessary," Rick said, assuming she was merely offering out of guilt. "I'll just…catch a few hours in the breakroom at the Twelfth or something."

"Don't be ridiculous. My couch is a pullout and it's no big deal. C'mon you know you're going to be exhausted when you leave here—save yourself the trouble of having to figure something else out or sleep on that horrible lumpy couch."

He could not help but let out a blip of laughter at her description. She was correct; the breakroom couch had seen better days, but at the same time he did not want to intrude upon her personal space for the sake of his own convenience. "You're sure it's not a problem?"

She gave him one of her infamous looks. "It's one night, Rodgers; you're not moving in."

"Okay." He nodded, feeling the smallest of weights lifting off his shoulders. "Really appreciate it, Beckett."

She nodded and then led the way back towards the cordoned off scene.

* * *

"Mother, I'm fine; calm down—I wasn't in the building when the helicopter hit it!"

Kate chuckled to herself as she emerged from the bathroom to hear her partner's exasperated tone. Still squeezing out the ends of her hair with a towel, she walked into her bedroom she rummaged in her top dresser drawer for the pair of socks she'd forgotten, still able to hear parts of his conversation—not that she was listening purposely; the apartment simply wasn't very large.

"Yes…yes, really…No, I'm staying with Beckett tonight; I'll figure something else out for the next few days. Okay…okay…love you, too."

Socks in hand, Kate left her bedroom and took the three steps needed to re-enter the bathroom, hang her wet towel on the back of the door, and then reenter the main living space where Rick sat on the couch, his head dropped down against the back of it, his hands covering his face. She took a moment—a brief moment—to do an internal happy-dance at the fact that Rick Rodgers was actually in her apartment, and then recomposed herself as she stepped forward.

"Your mom's worried about you, huh?"

He laughed and then lowered his hands from his face as he looked at her. "From the day I entered the academy. Before that, probably, but she hid it much better." Kate hummed and sat on the opposite end of the couch from him so she could put on her socks.

After two more grueling hours at the site of the helicopter crash they'd been dismissed. After swinging by the Twelfth to pick up the spare clothes Rick kept in his locker, they returned to Kate's apartment where she let him, the guest, shower first. Really, the gesture was half politeness, and half an opportunity to tidy up the stray dishes and empty takeout containers littering her living space. The ten minutes he was in the shower also afforded her the opportunity to have a brief but complete breakdown about how she was actually going to be sharing an apartment with her partner for the evening. True, it was quite possibly the least romantic scenario she could have imagined, but it was also more than she'd ever anticipated.

A month earlier, when she and her father had met Rick at Citi Field she had admittedly had her hopes up very high for the evening. In some respects it did not disappoint. She felt they all had a great time and Rick had echoed similar sentiments the following week when they went back to work. That was, however, where his feelings seemed to end as he did not suggest any further outside-of-work activities between them.

As she seemed doomed to repeat the same patterns—at least, where Rick was concerned—she decided to once again move on from her feelings for him and that time commit fully. She had done well for seventeen days and then out of the blue he'd shown up one morning with a bagel, cream cheese, and coffee from her favorite place "just because" and she'd practically taken a swan dive off the wagon.

Now, in the wake of the horrors of the day, she was almost glad to have her school girl-ish fantasies to distract her. Thinking about catching a glimpse of Rick shirtless as he walked through her apartment that evening was far better than the images of burned bodies and sobbing victims threatening to leap into the forefront of her mind.

Huffing out a breath, Rick leaned forward and balanced his forearms against his thighs. "On the bright side, I did get a text from my father—probably at Mother's insistence, but I suppose it still counts."

"That's nice."

"Kind of. He said, 'Sorry about your building; hope your belongings aren't damaged.'"

She fought to cringe and instead offered in as positive a tone as she could muster, "At least he texted…?"

He tossed his phone on to the end table and muttered, "Right."

Tucking her legs beneath her body she leaned her elbow against the back of the couch as she sat facing him. "He's pretty tough on you, huh? Has he always been that way?"

"Ah...yeah, at least for the past twenty-seven years."

"What about before then?"

"I didn't know him."

Kate merely blinked, convinced she must have heard him wrong. "...what?"

His brow rose and he relaxed back on the couch as well, draping his arm over the back of the cushions as he turned to face her. "Oh, you don't know this story? I didn't meet my father until I was eight."

Her jaw dropped at this confusing and shocking information. "Wha—seriously? But...but he's your biological father right? You look alike." She had only seen two pictures of the elder man, neither of them current, though that actually probably aided in accentuating the similarities in the eyes and forehead region of the father and son.

"Oh yes, he is. He and my mother had a, um, one night affair shall we call it? Then he disappeared—she only knew his first name. Now we know it was because he was already undercover with the NYPD when they met. Anyway, she had me, took me off to London to do theatre for a bit, then came back in time for me to go to school...and she ended up bumping into him in a coffee shop a few years later."

"You're kidding!" She proclaimed, even further shocked.

He chuckled. "No; it was totally coincidental. He was with the FBI by then and the whole story sort of spilled out. We all started spending time together and he was evidently getting along well with Mother so they decided to make a go of it."

"And it worked out—that's so sweet!" she proclaimed; it really was an adorable, if not almost unbelievable, story.

He grunted. "Something like that. I mean—forget it; you don't need to hear about my family drama."

She hummed, now fully intrigued by their unusual dynamic. She was not one to pry into other's personal lives as she certainly did not permit anyone to pry into hers, but it wasn't as though they'd just met. Besides, she'd heard enough small stories over the years to piece together some Richard Rodgers history in her mind. Plus, she was thrilled to finally know the real reason behind why her partner and his father had different last names. When Esposito had asked, Rick had brushed it off as not wanting to be compared to the infamous man, but she had always thought there was more to the story; now she understood why.

"C'mon Rodgers; tell me your story. I already know some of it."

He looked at her hesitantly for a moment, but then rounded his shoulders when he ultimately gave him. Raking his hand back through his still-damp hair, he appeared deep in thought for a moment before he began, "It's not that I don't think he loves us—he does in his own way I suppose, but…I've always felt like a burden to him."

Kate felt her heart ache for him. She couldn't imagine ever having that feeling about a parent; it would have been heartbreaking, though she couldn't say the sentiments shocked her. Given what she knew about men with careers as epic as Hunt's had been, they rarely had families—particularly if they were undercover like he had been. But that had been over two decades earlier; surely he still didn't feel the same. "Even now?"

"Some days. He's just this guy who always wanted to be all about the job. I know never intended to have a family. I mean, I'm sure you've heard the stories—who hasn't? Were they still telling that one about his dramatic eighteen months undercover in a cartel when you went through the academy?"

She almost laughed. Yes, he had gone through half a decade before her, but if there was one thing that remained nearly stagnant it was the NYPD training process. "Yeah at the time I'd pictured him very differently than he actually looks. I'm still not quite sure how a six-foot-two, clean cut guy like him was able to stay in a cartel that long."

"Right!?" He half-laughed, half-gasped, throwing his hands up into the air. "I wondered that myself—after I was old enough to understand what actually went on, of course. Anyway, point being: a wife and child cramp Jackson Hunt's style."

Her brow wrinkled. "But yet your parents have been married for…over twenty years?"

"Twenty-five, actually. Don't get me wrong—he's good to her. Though I was still a little kid I saw how horrendous my mother's choice in men could be. Even had a step father for about a year who I was _not_ a fan of so compared to that Dad is the obvious choice, but…" He heaved out a breath that practically compressed his whole ribcage before looking back up to her and skimming his finger over his top lip. "I'd like to think this is irrational, but some days I wonder if he'd even care about me at all—if we'd even still communicate with each other—if I hadn't chosen a career in law enforcement."

"That's why you went to the academy?" she guessed.

He bobbed his head. "Once I was in high school and somewhat seriously thinking about my career options he was very up front about the differences between an NYPD career track versus an FBI one. I genuinely don't think he cared which I chose as long as I picked one of them. Picking something else…would not have gone over well."

"Bet he was thrilled when you got into the academy."

Rick barked out a laugh. "I don't think my father has ever been thrilled about anything. He, ah…actually it's funny. I went in thinking I'd end up in Vice or something, but I didn't feel the connection. Even with the different last name enough people knew who I was so there was this expectation of what I would become, but I felt, I don't know—like it just wasn't me. That's when I decided to pursue homicide and when I told him, he looked at me, squeezed my shoulder and said, 'Good for you, son.' I think it was one of the only moments he's ever been proud of me."

Though Kate was touched by the sweet moment, she could not help but feel his assessment about his father's feelings was incorrect. "That can't be true!" With a man as generous, smart, and funny as Rick she could hardly imagine a parent not beaming with pride at multiple if not frequent occasions.

He gave her a pointed look. "I assure you it is. It's okay. I get it—it's who he is. We're very different people…but I suppose it worked out in the end. I like what I do; I'm good at it. Must be the DNA."

"No," she corrected, sliding a bit closer to him as she looked him in the eye. "You're good at what you do because you care. Like today—I saw you sitting with that woman and her dog outside your building."

It had been later in the afternoon, closer to when she'd snuck away to have a good cry, but she saw him seated on the sidewalk beside a woman who appeared to be in her seventies. He was holding onto the leash of the woman's poodle as she clutched a cell phone to her ear with white knuckles. Though she was too busy to stare at them, she had later caught him giving her a quick hug before returning to the scene.

"Mrs. Lieberman? Yeah she lives on my floor and gets all freaked out when the fire alarm goes off—so does that scrawny dog of hers, Muffins."

"Muffins?" Kate echoed

"Yep. Not Muffin—Muffins." He clarified with an eye roll.

Kate smiled. "Still. You care. More than most—and that's very important."

"Thanks, Kate, and—oh!" He was interrupted by the buzzing of her apartment doorbell. "That'll be the food; I got it."

"Oh you don't-"

"Kate please." He stopped her as he hopped off the couch, reaching for the wallet on the end table. "You're letting me stay here; the least I can do is pay for dinner."

* * *

"Have we ever done this? You and I?"

Kate glanced over her shoulder as her partner finished tying up the trash bag from under her sink. She shook the water off her hands into the sink, turned off the faucet with her forearm, and reached for a towel to dry off. "What?"

"Hanging out outside of work."

"Um…we were just at that Mets game…"

"No, no—I mean just the two of us; we weren't alone at the game."

"Um." Kate hedged, turning her eyes towards the ceiling and pretending to think about the answer when in reality she knew it by heart. "No—no I don't think so."

"Shame. It's been kind of fun." He smiled at her then picked up the garbage bag so he could take it to the trash chute as he'd offered to do.

Only once she heard her apartment door shut did Kate clap her hands together and wiggle her shoulders in brief celebration. Rick was enjoying their time together! He said it was a shame they hadn't spent time together sooner! That was amazing!

When their takeout arrived and they gathered around her small dining table Rick had made the decree that there would be no more work talk—particularly no talk about that day's events—for the remainder of the evening. They were, as he called it, in distraction mode and thus only happy topics could be discussed. Though she initially felt panicked about what they'd talk about, she relaxed the moment he'd cracked his first joke and their conversation had been smooth from that point forward. Better than smooth, actually; it had been fun—just as fun as she ever thought it would be if they'd had the opportunity to go on a real date.

And of course this was not a date. Not even close to a date—she knew that. But…if they could hang out in friendship-like non-dates, then maybe…maybe…

 _Maybe_.

When Rick returned to her apartment, Kate's stomach flipped at the mere thought of the words that she was about to say for fear he would turn her down, but she knew she had to take the chance anyway. Trying to ignore her thrumming heart she said, "Hey so I was thinking—it might just be a day or two more before they let you back into your place. If you want to…you could just stay here."

He looked at her, slightly surprised. "Really?"

"Sure, I don't mind. That's what partners are for right?"

He grinned. "Absolutely! And once I get back into my place if yours ever needs fumigated or gets a leak you're welcome to stay with me."

She nodded, once again fighting the blush in her cheeks at the sight of his incredible smile. "Thanks, Rick."

"Well I guess I should get this bed set up. Are there sheets?"

She nodded. "Sure, um, just let me grab them and we'll—we'll do it together." She hurried past him and into her bedroom, where she kept all the spare linens, all the while the smile never left her face. A potential three night sleepover with Rick? What could possibly be better than that!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Leaning back in his seat, Rick reached his arms high up into the air and then brought his hands back behind his head where he linked his fingers together and let out a heavy exhale. He fought to keep his eyes focused on the street camera video footage playing at triple its recorded speed on his screen. He was just…frustrated—at everything.

Not only had he been watching footage of the same city block from several different angles for the prior two hours he'd had absolutely no luck finding any clues as to who was responsible for the young man found dead in a mid-block alley earlier that morning. He caught two glimpses of someone he might have thought to be a suspect, but neither showed the person's face, so he still felt as though he was at a dead end. Though this was not at all uncommon when it came to camera footage, it was not Rick's only source of frustration.

Two days had passed since the helicopter crash and he still had no official date for being allowed back into his apartment building. The city official's line was still "within a few days" but the more time passed with no clearer details, the more concerned he became. He'd even tried to use his position in law enforcement to get information or, better yet, be allowed inside the building (even if only briefly) but he was unsuccessful.

By that point over forty-eight hours later, it was not simply the frustration of not being able to sleep in his own space, but the inconvenience of not being able to access any of his belongings. He'd already ran out of clothing and though Kate graciously allowed him to use her laundry facilities, his nicer clothing needed time to dry so he was stuck wearing an old pair of jeans and an NYPD t-shirt, neither of which were suitable for canvassing for information about witnesses to their crime. Thus, he'd been forced to allow Ryan and Esposito to take the lead on their case. Of course this was not the worst thing in the world—he trusted the duo and they deserved a chance to run a case—it simply added to the list of things frustrating him.

Knowing he needed a break before he went cross eyed, Rick tapped the space bar on his computer keyboard to pause the video and dug into his top desk drawer for some spare change. "I'm gonna go get a soda; want anything Beckett?"

"Hmm? Oh no—I'm fine; thanks." She glanced up briefly from her computer, smiled, and then turned back to her screen. He wanted to ask her about her progress in digging into the life of their victim, but didn't want to interrupt as she seemed busy. Hopefully she'd uncovered something that would help them crack into the mystery.

Smiling to himself as he rattled the change in his palm walk walking towards the breakroom, Rick had to admit to the one bright side of the entire situation being his extraordinary partner. Kate had absolutely been a lifesaver over the prior two days. Not only had she allowed him to stay on her pullout couch for an undetermined amount of time, but she was one of the most gracious hosts he'd ever encountered outside of some sort of official hotel establishment. She was constantly offering to help him with anything he needed due to his temporary displacement and though he almost always turned her down, the offer alone meant the world to him. In addition, she'd been very respectful of what little personal space he had in her place, retiring early to her bedroom with a book the prior evening so that he could make some personal phone calls in an attempt to find out more about his apartment, which of course hadn't worked out, but the gesture alone was everything.

After purchasing a cola from the machine, Rick returned to his desk, his brain focusing mostly on where else he could search to see if they could put a face on their mystery subject. He was so distracted that he failed to notice the suit-wearing main trailing behind him until he heard him say, "Richard?"

Startled by his father's voice, Rick jumped and accidentally slopped some soda out of the can and down onto his t-shirt. Fortunately the navy blue would hide the stain well so he merely smoothed the t-shirt down with one hand while rotating around to gaze into the blue eyes that were nearly an identical mirror to his own. "Dad? H-hi—I mean—hello. What…what are you doing here?" He'd heard nothing from the man since the text message on the day of the incident and thus was utterly floored to see him in person. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure that his father had ever visited him work.

His father glanced around the bullpen for a moment before saying, "I, ah, had an early meeting in the city and your mother wanted me to check in."

"Oh." Well, that certainly made more sense; his father certainly was not the type to drop by unannounced—or, as it happened, drop by even after he was invited. Rick chose not to think about the number of times his father had come to New York for a meeting and failed to even mention they were in the same city until his mother brought it up days later. "Well, um, thanks. Did…do you want to go grab something to eat?"

"No, no; I have to catch the three o'clock train, but I wanted to stop in, see how you were doing."

Though he sounded more like he was reciting from the script provided by his wife, Rick still smiled at the comment. "Well, thanks; I'm doing okay. We just picked up a new case this morning but—here. Come meet my partner." Rick led the ten steps back to his desk, calling out for Kate. She looked up and then stood almost immediately, presumably recognizing the man trailing behind him.

"Ah, Dad this is my partner, Kate Beckett; Kate, meet Agent Jackson Hunt."

Grinning, she extended her hand over the desk to shake the hand of the statuesque man with salt-and-pepper hair. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Jackson eyed her up and down as though she was one of the case murder boards and he wanted to be the first to solve the crime. Drawing back his hand he repeated her name and then asked, "You were…the youngest female detective in the NYPD?"

A slight blush crept into Kate's cheeks as she confirmed, "Yes, sir," and it made Rick grin.

"Have you ever thought about a career with the FBI?"

While Rick clicked his tongue with offense (Honestly! Trying to mine his partner right in front of him!), Kate took the comment in stride, laughing lightly and saying, "Ah, no I haven't—and I don't think I'm interested right now, sir."

"Well if you are you be sure to mention my name on your application." Jackson then turned back to face his son before continuing with, "Have you been to your apartment yet?"

"No. I talked to them again last night, but they're still not letting anyone inside. My apartment is on the undamaged side of the building so it should be okay once I'm in there, which hopefully will be sooner than later. Until then I'm crashing on Beckett's couch."

"Very good. Well, I should…" Jackson let his voice drift off as he nodded in the direction of the elevator.

"Let me, ah, walk you out," Rick said quickly, scurrying to lead the way back towards the exit before his father had a chance to rebut the suggestion. He strode confidently forward and punched the elevator call button before turning around with a smile. Not surprisingly, he was met with a stern expression.

"No need to interrupt your investigation, Richard; I can find my way from here."

"Oh, right. Sure."

As he spoke, his father extended out his right hand and Rick took it and shook it briefly before offering a smile and then making his way back to his desk. He'd given up the hope of ever greeting or saying goodbye to his father with a hug while still in his mid-teens; Jackson wasn't really the hugging type, which was a shame for him, because Rick was definitely a hugger. If he was lucky and his mother was present when he was departing from their Christmas festivities for the year, he would usually get a hug from his father then, but that was about it. Then again, after twenty-some years he'd merely come to accept it.

"That was nice that your father stopped by."

Rick looked over at Kate as he sat back down in his desk chair. He shrugged one shoulder and breathed out, "Yeah, I guess. I know he only did it out of fear for whatever Mother would do to him if she found out he didn't—and she would find out."

Kate arched one eyebrow at him. "He's afraid of your mother?"

He laughed at the notion of his gun-toting father being truly afraid of the petite red-headed tornado that was his mother. "Um, not afraid…more, weary; doesn't want to invite a dramatic episode—can't blame him for that." For if there was anyone who could spin a dramatic episode more dramatic than anyone had seen before, it was Martha Rodgers.

"Still, it was nice." She turned back to her computer, placed her hands on the keyboard, then pulled then back and gazed back at him between their computer monitors once more. "He, ah, knew who I was?"

Rick grinned at her. "Oh yes you should feel very proud of that—doubt he could have recognized a single other person in here other than maybe Montgomery. It's particularly impressive since I told him that little fun Kate Beckett tidbit two years ago when I first joined the Twelfth." He distinctly remembered the conversation because it was one he dreaded for quite some time.

When Rick's prior captain had called him into his office and solemnly informed him of the warrant mistake made by his team, he'd fought to keep himself from vomiting. He, of course, was incredibly upset that an accident that could have been prevented by more diligent work had resulted in a murder going free. More so, he was utterly terrified of his father's reaction to the news, for above all else his father valued a high degree of success in the workplace.

By the time he was able to get down to DC and speak to his parents in person for the first time since the incident, he'd already been settled at the Twelfth for two weeks. To that point his father had remained rather silent on the issue at hand, but before they even sat down to dinner Jackson pulled him aside and gave him a speech about the value of the work they did (as if he didn't know already) and he mentioned being disappointed but confident Rick would learn from his mistake. In a desperate attempt to show his father the silver lining of his new position, he'd sprouted out impressive facts about the new team he'd joined including Kate's slot in NYPD history.

"He's impressed by little accolades like that," Rick continued. "Not that is not impressive in its own right, because of course it is. I just mean…assuming your arrest record is above average, it's about all the same to him—but the youngest female detective—that'll always get you a gold star in dad's eyes."

She tilted her head, amused. Folding her arms over her chest she asked him, "So what's your gold star?"

He gave a sad little smile and directed his eyes down to his desk. Unfortunately compared to his father, all of his accomplishments were not that impressive. Yes, his team had one of the best case closure rates in the city, but it wasn't _the best_. He'd done well for himself, earning back his higher grade detective status even more quickly than he anticipated, but that still wasn't good enough. In fact, he wasn't sure if it was even possible to raise himself up to "Jackson level" in his career, but that wasn't Kate's problem, so he merely said, "Still working on it, I think."

"You'll get there."

Her tone sounded so confident that Rick looked back up with curiosity, but she merely smiled at him and then turned back to his computer. As he was about to do the same, he was interrupted by Esposito walking up to their desk and saying, "Yo."

"Oh—hey. Did you find any witnesses?" Kate asked him.

"Kind of?"

"What does that mean?" Rick asked.

Esposito nodded in the direction of the elevators and Rick turned his head to see Ryan leading a middle-aged woman and a boy he estimated to be around seven or eight into the bullpen. "Meet Brady, our witness. Apparently, Brady suffers from a bit of insomnia, and his mother frequently finds him staring out the window of their apartment even in the wee hours of the morning."

"So he saw the murder." Kate concluded.

"His mother thinks so. Problem is: Brady isn't a huge fan of strangers—Ryan and I couldn't get a word out of him."

At this comment, Rick sat up a bit straighter in his chair and gazed at his colleague. "Mind if I take a shot?"

Esposito smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

"Oh god. Must we suffer?"

Kate glanced over at her partner when he moaned upon sitting on the couch beside her. "What suffering are you talking about?"

"This trash," he said, gesturing towards the television screen where a man dressed in a dark suit with a bow tie was interrupting the wedding of the woman he was in love with.

Considering the movie was secretly one of her favorite romantic comedies, she did not want to invite too much criticism, so instead she went with a shrug and the most basic of reasons. "My TV; my rules." When he lamented again, she laughed and said, "Jeez, calm down; it's almost over and then we'll turn the game on."

When he grunted she looked over to see him with his arms folded over his chest, lips curled in displeasure. "God! It's just so freakin' ridiculous and unrealistic." He waved dismissively at the television as the man and woman onscreen kissed.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Okay, _clearly_ you don't like marriage, but some people do."

"Actually, I've been married."

She snorted and assumed he was joking. "Funny."

"No, seriously."

She rotated her head in his direction and tried to keep her jaw from falling into her lap. "What? When?"

"Right out of college...only lasted about eight months before we divorced."

Kate's eyes widened in shock. She would have never guessed that Rick had been married. She had merely assumed he was the "never settle down" type, because that was all she had seen from him during the prior two years. Then again, if the marriage hadn't even lasted a year, it could have been a plausible reason for his obvious distaste for anything more than a fling.

Further thinking about his comment about the marriage dissolving not long after college, she thought about her own life at that time. If Rick had chosen to do as she had done and go to the first NYPD Academy session after graduation, then she could only imagine the strain that not just going through the academy, but the on-the-job training that took place right after would have put on a new marriage. Theirs certainly would not have been the first relationship to go up in flames under such stress.

"That would have been while you were still in training, right?"

He hummed. "Yeah, but that wasn't why. We, ah, got pregnant so we did a quickie courthouse wedding—nothing big or fancy like she would have wanted, but she wanted to be married, so that's what we did. A few weeks later she had a routine ultrasound and the tech was concerned so we had to go back for more testing. Long story short: the baby wasn't developing organs correctly; it wouldn't have survived the duration of the pregnancy so we chose to terminate."

Kate gasped audibly at the heart-breaking story. "Oh, God, Rick I'm so sorry."

He quirked one corner of his lip. "Thank you. It, ah, was really difficult. I don't know if Meredith and I would have made it even if the baby had lived—we'd always had a pretty tumultuous relationship, but after that..."

She shook her head and reached out to gently squeeze his hand where it rested on the couch cushion beside him. "I'm sorry to hear that—and I'm sorry I teased you."

He shook his head and leaned back against the couch casually. "No, that I deserved. The truth is: that's one of the reasons why I'm not really interested in getting married again. I mean, never say never, but I think it would take a long time and one hell of a lady to change my mind."

As she reached for the television remote to switch to the Mets game now that the movie was over, Kate considered her partner's statement. His disposable attitude toward relationships with women did make more sense in the wake of the news of his divorce, but she wasn't sure that she agreed with what he said, particularly in light of that day's events at the Twelfth.

Just as Esposito had hoped, Rick was able to speak to the boy who witnessed the murder in the wee hours of that morning. Being so young, the boy could hardly be the soul witness in the case if they wanted charges to stick, but he was able to give them a fairly accurate time of death window as well as identify the markings on the back of the sweatshirt worn by the killer, which subsequently helped Ryan identify the man in two different security videos, one of which showed his face.

Early on in their partnership, perhaps around the fifth or six month, Kate first observed Rick around children who were waiting patiently for their mother to finish giving a statement. In her view, he lit up around them and evidently possessed some magical quality that made virtually all children take a shine to him. He was always there, cracking jokes and making them smile even if that had previously seemed impossible. Simply put, he was great with them—far better than the average person and lightyears better than anyone without children should have been.

After each time she'd witnessed him interact with children, Kate could not help but wonder if Rick wanted kids of his own. Being that good with them led her to think that he did, though she had never outright asked him. And, yes, it was certainly possible to have children without getting married again, but from the way Rick spoke, he implied that he shied away from serious relationships and not simply the institution of marriage and if it was serious relationships he avoided, having children certainly became much more unlikely.

In thinking about it for several more minutes, trying her best to be objective and not let her own feelings of desire towards him sway her thought process, Kate decided that her partner probably did ultimately want to have a family and become a father, which meant his statement was more out of anxiety and nerves simply because he had not yet been with the woman he was meant to marry. When that woman came around, Kate believed his mind would change.

"You know, Rick, I think she's out there."

"Hmm?" he grunted at her, his eyes fixated on the game.

"The woman who will change your mind about marriage—I think she's out there."

He turned his head to face her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

In response he merely shrugged and said, "Well, Beckett, I guess we'll just have to see."

* * *

A/N: thank you all so much for your reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Rick groaned when he pulled their cruiser up to the address listed on their search warrant. Of course the building had to be of the creepy, semi-abandoned warehouse variety; of course it did! He suspected from the general direction their GPS system was guiding them, but he'd held out hope all the same.

"God, I hate these buildings." He grunted as he slammed the car into park and took a moment to pout.

His partner offered him a small smile. "Yeah, you might have mentioned that once or twice."

Rick sighed and gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as he gazed skeptically at the building before him. His concern over buildings such as this one was not entirely unfounded, but born of an unfortunate experience during his early days on the force. He and his patrol partner at the time were called to a scene at a similar building. He was simply supposed to be directing traffic around the cordoned off area when all hell broke loose and two different shooters began targeting the cops. Fortunately, none of the brothers in blue had been injured, but it had taken nearly fifteen minutes to search the building and pull the shooters out of the broken-out, dilapidated windows. To that day Rick wasn't sure which specific area of the building they had been shooting out of. Thus, he remained wary of such buildings. There were too many places for on-edge suspects to hide; too many vantage points from which to attack. He always felt like a sitting duck and, as a cop, that was never a position he wanted to be in.

A moment later, over their radio, came the voice of Esposito saying, "We'll go in from the north end, you guys hold down the south, okay?"

"Roger that," Kate said into the radio.

Rick reached into the back seat and pulled out their bullet proof vests—an item he occasionally protested using, but downright insisted in a situation as uncertain of this one. Their suspect's only known address was his art studio in this abandoned warehouse, which was not technically supposed to be a residential building, but they were operating under the assumption he lived there as well. His fingerprints had been found at the scene of a drug dealer's murder and thus they could only assume he was armed with more than brushes and paint.

Though putting on the vest in the car was a struggle, he managed before looking over his partner to make sure she was suited up. "Ready?" She bobbed her head and so he picked up the warrant, tucked it into the pocket of his vest, and reached out for the door handle. "Then let's go."

His hand hovering just above the weapon in his hip holster, Rick approached the building, his eyes darting back and forth between every window that could conceivably have contained a shooter. He paused once to look ahead, searching for the building entry point, but found it rather obvious on the corner of the building. In fact, if he was not mistaken, the door was actually propped open, which seemed…odd.

Rick's fingers twitched over the butt of the weapon. The door to the building was open, but yet no vehicle was in sight. If there was a car nearby, perhaps one being used to load or unload materials, that could make sense, but he saw no car, so why would the door be open?

Just as he was about to fractionally slow his pace to better assess the situation, two shots rang out and he instinctively dropped low to the ground and pulled out his weapon. This action took a fraction of a second, but it was enough to cause one of the most sickening sounds he'd ever heard: a thud and grunt from behind him. Rotating his body backwards, Rick suddenly felt as though he was in a movie being played in slow motion; he somehow knew the scene he was about to witness before he even saw it.

Still crouched low on the ground, his weapon grasped tightly in his right hand, he caught sight of his partner crumpled on the ground, lying mostly on her left side with her legs flung out awkwardly in different directions. He felt terror rip through his chest and the scream bubbling beneath the surface before it escaped, for there was only one explanation for her position.

"Beckett! BECKETT!"

One more gunshot sent him scurrying back to the safety of the squad car even though his heart remained splayed out on the pavement with her. This he knew was why officer training was so intense. Self-preservation moves like ducking behind the open driver's side door needed to become instinctual reactions, instead of doing what probably any normal civilian would have done: rush to the injured woman's side. Years of training told him he was of no help to her if he was injured as well. He needed to get the situation under control and then he would focus on his partner.

Groping into the car for the radio, Rick scanned his eyes over the building façade, desperately trying to find the shooters position, but just like it had been a decade earlier, it was impossible.

"Shots fired! Shots fired; officer down!" He called into the radio, his stomach flipping on the final world.

 _Beckett_.

Another shot rang out and Rick forced his head back into the game. Feeling he caught a glimpse of a figure in a second floor window, he aimed his weapon and shot several times through the broken window's opening. He searched again, but saw no other movement, so he remained frozen, waiting, but with every beat of his heart, he felt his brain calling out his partner's name.

Beckett. Beckett. Beckett.

God; oh god. She was lying on the ground just a few feet away, though he could not see her from his exact position, he felt a string around his heart tugging, begging him to take a peek to see how she was doing. Had she moved at all? Was she bleeding? Where had the bullet entered her body? How bad was the injury?

 _Was she going to make it?_

No, no; he didn't want to think that way—he _couldn't_ —while trying to keep his head in the game, but yet in his mind he saw flashes of her simile, and he heard her laughter, and caught a glimpse of her from the prior night when they were in her apartment watching the Mets. She'd swung her feet up on the couch so that they rested just below his thigh and then she poked him with her toe. Not sure what she was doing but assuming it was something just to annoy him, he'd grabbed onto her ankle and pulled—hard. She'd squealed out a laugh and struggled to free herself. He'd laughed, too, and for a moment, just a moment it had almost felt like they were _more_.

"Rogers?"

Rick's thoughts were interrupted by Ryan's voice coming over the radio. He reached out for it, but as he did so two more shots rang out, one striking the hood of their cruiser. He dropped down behind the door, bracing in case there were more shots, and then fired three of his own in the direction of the building.

For there more minutes the firefight persisted and Rick struggled internally with the need to do his job and the near paralyzing fear for the safety of his partner until finally he heard Ryan's voice coming through the radio once more.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire! We got the shooter."

Popping up from where he crouched, Rick reached into the vehicle's console for the radio and repeated, "You got him?"

"Yes. We're going to sweep the building. You and Beck-"

"No! No! Beckett's been shot!" he cried out frantically, the words clawing at the back of his throat until tears pricked his eyes.

"How bad?"

"Don't know."

"Okay—take care of her; we got this."

Shoving his weapon back down into the holster, Rick jumped up and scurried around to the front of the vehicle where his partner still lay seemingly motionless. Again, following protocol, he rushed over to her, gripped on to the shoulder straps of her bullet proof vest, and used that leverage to drag her body back towards their vehicle, behind the security of the open passenger-side door. There, he made sure to lay her on her back and breathed his first sigh of relief when he realized her front side was not slathered in blood.

"Beckett? Kate? Can you hear me?" He slipped his left hand beneath her head and used his right to gently brush his fingers over her cheek; she groaned. "Kate!?"

"'m fine…'m fine…" She mumbled.

Though "fine" may have been a bit stronger of a classifier than he would have used, the sound of her voice caused relief to flood through Rick's body. He leaned forward and bowed his head down enough to rest it against her shoulder while his hands gripped on to each of her arms.

Beckett was okay; she was going to be okay. If she wasn't covered in blood and was still able to speak to him, he felt it safe to assume her life was not imminently in danger, and he could not have been more thrilled about it! Yet, she was still clearly injured and needed to be assessed and he did not want to wait for the ambulance to arrive.

Settling back down onto his haunches, he gazed down at his partner's body, scanning her for potential wounds. It only took a few seconds for him to spot the silver slug buried into the vest on her left side, just an inch above the C in the word "POLICE". Knowing that multiple shots had been fired, he scanned his eyes back and forth across every millimeter of the vest, but did not see a second point of entry.

Gripping onto her biceps, he moved his eyes back up to her face and they locked gazes. Shaking his head, he said, "Shit, you scared me."

She grunted out a rather weak-sounding, "Sorry."

"Just don't do it again." He moved his hands to her sides to unfasten the vest and then began to lift the front flap up and over her head. She pushed herself up on her elbows, presumably trying to help him, but gasped and flopped back down against the ground as he cautioned, "No, don't—you shouldn't move; something could be broken."

"Not from that distance."

"Well let's not risk it, okay?"

He pulled the vest free of her body and began examining for other wounds, but found none. He still wanted to get a closer look at the point of impact, though, so without thinking much about it he began to unbutton her light blue Oxford until she gazed at him, eyes-wide, and demanded, "What are you doing?"

"Checking." He continued to unbutton her shirt until her bra was fully exposed to him and he realized he should stop. Pretending he hadn't done anything that was not absolutely necessary, he pinched the left edge of her shirt collar and pulled it back to expose her chest and immediately noticed the point of the bullet's impact. The perfectly circular red mark appeared to be indented into her flesh. Surrounding it, he could see webs of broken blood vessels that looked equally uncomfortable and thus could not stop his lips from curling into a grimace.

"How bad is it?"

He glanced up at her face. "Well the bullet isn't inside you, so it obviously could be worse. It's about…two, three inches below your collar bone—looks like it's going to be one hell of a bruise."

"Great." She groused before shutting her eyes, lifting up her right hand to brush over her face, and then holding it out to him. "Here; help me up."

"No way." He refused and then went on to list the reasons why. "That bullet could have broken ribs—at the very least, bruised them. Plus I don't know how hard you hit the ground. You probably have a concussion if you lost consciousness. You need to wait for the ambulance."

She rolled her eyes. "Rogers; I'm fine."

He shook his head. "We'll let the medical personnel determine that."

She growled in his general direction and then rolled onto her right side, trying to use her elbow against the ground to push herself up into a seated position. He tried to keep her from moving, but she continued to fight him deposited yelping out in pain twice, and refused to be still until she was seated with her shoulders and head braced up against the body of the car.

"Are you done moving now?" he asked, exasperated. Honestly! She could be so stubborn!

Shutting her eyes, she sighed, "I suppose."

"Good. There's no need to move any more now; I'll sit here with you." He sat down beside her on her right side and pulled her right arm into his lap where he cradled her elbow with one hand and grasped her hand with the other.

She squeezed his hand and said, "Thanks."

As her voice sounded rather tearful, Rick instinctively leaned over and pressed his lips against her temple. "You're okay, Kate; just breathe; you're going to be okay."

* * *

"Okay, Beckett, take it easy."

Kate fought to keep from smacking her partner at his coddling tone. For Christ's sake—she was not a piece of glass that would break under the slightest breeze! She let him help her out of the cab and then walk slowly beside her on the way back to her apartment, but this was ridiculous! "Rick, stop; I'm fine." She snipped as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for her—extra wide as though she needed to get through with crutches or a wheel chair. "You heard the doctor—nothing is broken."

"I did hear the doctor," he countered knowingly. "He used the phrase 'severely bruised.'"

"I'm seriously fine. I just want to sit here, eat my takeout, and relax." Honestly, she was fine. Yes, the bullet indentation in her chest was excruciating, as any severe bruise would be, but she was _fine_. True, she would be on desk duty for at least five days pending a reexamination by the doctor, but she didn't have any other restrictions and had full use of all four limbs. Thus, she was fine—really fine after that morphine injection the hospital had given her.

"At least let me get the plates out."

She sighed and slid on to the closest chair. "If that would make you feel better."

For the next several minutes she waited as he set the table, spread out their Chinese takeout contianers, and opened each of them. He then procured two water bottles from her refrigerator and asked if she needed anything else before he sat down. She declined and the immediately reached for an egg roll; she hadn't eaten since breakfast and was starving!

They sat mostly in a comfortable silence for the ten minute duration of their meal before Kate noticed her partner was staring at her in a peculiar way. In fact, it was the same peculiar way in which he'd been staring at her since they arrived at the hospital and he sat dutifully by her bedside in the emergency room even though she told him he could leave no less than five times. He'd never left, and instead stayed with her until she was discharged. Now that his borderline creepy staring was extending into the evening she could not help but ask, "What is it?"

His brow wrinkled. "What's what?"

"You're staring at me."

"No I'm not."

"You are."

"No…"

"Rick!" she groaned, exasperated with his denial.

He rounded his shoulders, relenting. "Okay, maybe I am a little I just…I just can't stop thinking about earlier today when I turned around and saw you on the ground. I honestly thought the bullet missed your vest and it was terrifying."

At the sound of genuine concern in his voice, Kate's heart fluttered. "But Rick I'm fine."

He gazed at her, his eyes a bit frantic. "I know that _now_ but then, I…" He shook his head and skimmed his hand over his mouth. "I don't know—maybe it's because we've grown closer, living together over this past week, but I—well obviously I never wanted anything bad to happen to you but now I really care about you and…" He let his voice drift off and for a solid five second he merely gazed at her as though he were seeing her for the first time. Then, suddenly, he shook his head, breaking their moment as he continued with, "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Ah…thanks…" she said tentatively, not entirely sure how to interpret what had just happened.

Nodding his head, he stood from the table and announced, "I'm going to shower."

She stood too saying, "Sure, I'll just clean-"

"No." He stopped her as she reached out for the plate in front of where he stood. "I'll clean up when I'm done."

"I can clean up two plates and put takeout containers in the trash, Rick."

He studied her for a moment as though he would be able to determine her ability to do those tasks from her facial expression alone, but ultimately he just shrugged and said, "Okay—but don't bother taking the trash out; I'll do that. I won't be long."

"Whatever," she said dismissively. Then they parted ways as he walked towards the bathroom and she carried the plates into the kitchen. As she slowed her walk in front of the kitchen sink, Kate's mind flashed with a memory from earlier that day.

For the most part, the moments surrounding her shooting were a blur. She could clearly see herself getting out of the squad car, but then other than the sharp pops of gunfire the next thing she knew she was on the ground and in pain. She vaguely remembered her conversation with Rick, but not in any great detail until that moment when she recalled his lips pressing up against her temple.

Had he…had he really _kissed_ her?

As she set the plates down into the sink Kate felt tingles skitter across the back of her neck. Rick had kissed her and stayed by her side in the hospital in a move far more loyal than she would have expected from either Ryan or Esposito. On top of that, the way he'd been gazing at her no more than a minute earlier had been intense—intimate.

Was it possible that he finally— _finally_ —wanted her as much as she wanted him?

Hearing the hiss of the water turning on in the shower called Kate's attention towards the adjoining bathroom. Could she really…? She shouldn't. Oh, no she really should not, but….could she…?

Kate took two steps away from the sink and paused. This was the pain meds talking—it had to be the pain meds. Well, them in combination with her traumatic experience. She had been shot for the very first time and thank god the bullet landed in her vest and she faced no permanent injury from it. Two inches in another direction, however, and she would have been in very different shape at that exact moment. She knew that and so did her partner so maybe, just maybe, that needed to be celebrated.

Knowing if she gave it any more than a minute's thought she would change her mind, Kate tip-toed her way out of the kitchen and over to the bathroom door. She reached out for the handle but stopped just before her fingers came in contact with it. No—if she was going to go all in, she needed to go _all in_.

With great haste she unbuttoned the front of her blouse, shrugged it off her shoulders and then tossed it into her bedroom. She then did the same with her pants, shimmying out of them, and kicking them towards her bedroom door where they landed half inside, half out, but she didn't take much notice. Instead, she shot her hand back out towards the door handle, gripped it and turned. Thankfully she faced no resistance.

A second later she slipped inside the bathroom and caught sight of her partner naked save for his boxer-briefs. He was in the process of pushing them down over his hips when she shut the door behind her and presumably the click of the handle roused his attention. He visibly jumped, yanked his shorts back on and yelped, "Jesus!" She watched his eyes dart up and down over her body before he stammered out, "Wh-what—what are you doing?"

"I don't know," she said truthfully. Her heart was thundering beneath her bruised chest and her head felt a bit fuzzy. All she knew for sure was that she had to commit fully to her decision in order for it to turn out the way she wanted.

"I…I'm getting in the shower," he said a bit dumbly.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Want company?"

His jaw dropped several inches and he croaked out, "What?!"

Amused by how terrified he looked, Kate took two cat-like steps forward, which, in the cramped bathroom, was enough to bring her within touching distance of him. She reached out her hand and skimmed it over his shoulder to the middle of his bicep, where a small horizontal scar could be scene. She brushed her thumb back and forth over the mark while Rick's gaze tore away from her chest and turned instead to her thumb. "What's happening?"

A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she took a step closer. That time, she reached out her other hand and skimmed it across the middle of his chest. "I don't know. I just thought…after everything that's happened today are you still sure you don't want to sleep with me?"

He jerked his head up to meet her gaze, eyes wide. He searched her face for a moment, almost as though he was waiting for the punchline of her joke, before saying, "Ah, want…want was never the issue, Beckett."

She grazed both hands over his belly and then spread them out before she reached his underwear so she could gently caress the flesh at his hips. Dipping her eyes to see the snug fabric was doing absolutely nothing to hide the beginnings of his arousal, she smiled and asked, "Then what was?"

"You're...you're not the type of girl who...you deserve better." His tone sounded defeated, but she could not understand why. She could name several dozen reasons why she wanted to be with him, but none seemed very important in that moment with both of them nearly naked; all that mattered was that she did.

Keeping her eyes trained on his face, she reached both arms behind her, unclasped her bra and casually tossed it aside. Rick's eyes didn't leave her face, but he did swallow hard, so she reached out and cupped the underside of his jaw and said, "But I want you." Then, she rose up on her toes and kissed him.

Clearly stunned by her actions, it took Rick six seconds to respond, but when he did, he parted his lips and grabbed the base of her jaw with his right hand, pulling her mouth into his. With his left, he skimmed his fingertips up her side before they skimmed over the underside of her breast and he cupped it gently; she groaned into his mouth.

So this— _this_ —was what kissing Richard Rodgers felt like. As she wound her arms around his neck and slipped her tongue into his mouth Kate could not help but think it had been well worth the two year wait. Well worth it.

"Jesus…Kate…" Rick breathed when she leaned back from his body so that she could rid them both of their underwear. She grinned at him, winked, and then stepped into the shower to adjust the temperature of the spray. Her partner joined her a moment later, winding his arms around her waist from behind and pressing his lips against the side of her throat. She hummed happily, leaning back into his embrace and bringing her hand up to skim through his damp hair.

As he continued to kiss her neck and the hollow of her throat, Kate could feel every inch of her body humming with anticipation. She wanted him so much that while she wished to enjoy the feeling of his lips on her neck, she had little patient for extended foreplay. Instead, she spun around and captured his lips with hers again, swallowing down the groan he made when she clawed her fingers down his back.

They continued to kiss for several moments until Rick's kisses trailed down the front of her throat and his lips landed just to the north of her bullet wound. Since their nudity had been a worthwhile distraction, she had temporarily forgotten about her injury until he kissed it and she felt a jolt of pain that caused her to yelp and step back against the edge of the tub. Rick quickly apologized.

She shook her head and blinked some water out of her eyes. "It's okay; I didn't realize how much it still hurt."

Her partner gazed down on the mark, which had begun to fade from red to a deep purple and a deep crease settled on his brow. He placed his hand on her left shoulder, dropping his thumb down over the plane of her chest so it came near to, but did not touch, the mark. He stared at it for several moments before looking at her and saying, "I…I never had a partner get shot before. I never…I didn't even realize how much I…it would…"

"Rick," she said to cut off his stammering. He looked her squarely in the eye; she smiled, and brought her hand up to rest her palm on his cheek. "I'm fine—now shut up and kiss me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Wha…what are you doing?" Kate asked when she stepped out of her bedroom wearing a t-shirt and cotton shorts, still squeezing out the damp ends of her hair with a small towel. She watched as her partner emerged from the entryway of her apartment and for one heart-sinking moment she thought he was about to sneak out, but he surprised her by saying, "Just took out the trash—why?"

"Rick," she half laughed at him. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "Don't mind."

She ducked into the bathroom, hung her towel up on the rack by the sink, and then emerged to find him settling down on the couch and reaching for the remote. A silly smile skirted over her face and she covered her mouth with her fingertips while thinking about their intimate activities of the prior hour, still hardly able to believe that they'd had sex in her shower. Great sex, actually; just as she imagined it would be. Rick Rodgers was certainly a talented man—in more ways than one.

Trying her best to straighten her expression and not look too goofy, she walked over and sat on the couch beside him. Over the prior five evenings she'd been sitting at the opposite end of the furniture, leaving as much space between them as was possible—not because she was uncomfortable, but she didn't want to invade his personal space. Now, considering what they had just done, she figured it was safe to sit within a few inches of him. Glancing over at his face, she saw virtually no reaction from him and decided her position was fine. Settling back against the cushions, she brought her feet up to tuck beneath her, but ended up jostling her arm and causing a shooting pain in her chest, which made her grunt with discomfort.

"Hey are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

She smiled at his concerned tone. "No; I'm okay—just moved a little too fast probably."

"I was hoping the shower would have made it feel better."

"Oh I feel better, but I don't think it was the shower," she told him with a smirk. He let out a laugh and then turned back to the television, where a Mets game was playing again now that the commercial was over.

After a few minutes it became obvious the Mets were pitifully losing their game and Kate was about to suggest they try and find something else to watch when she saw her partner staring at her curiously once more so she asked him what was going on. He shook his head and said, "Nothing, nothing; just thinking about your bruise. Is that the worst injury you've ever had?"

"Um…I don't know," she said as she tried to go through her mental rolodex of lifetime injuries. "Certainly one of the worst since it involved a bullet, even if it is a bruise."

"A severe bruise," he pointed out.

"Right. I sprained my ankle pretty bad when I was fifteen and I think that was worse simply because it affected my mobility more, but I've never actually broken anything so…yeah, I guess this is pretty high on the list."

"How'd you sprain your ankle?"

"Oh." She groaned and rolled her eyes at the mildly embarrassing injury. "I was at school and going down the stairs. The person in front of me was carrying their backpack instead of wearing it and my foot caught in the strap and we both went down."

"Oh no!" he half-laughed, half-gasped.

She nodded. "Yeah it was pretty embarrassing. Even worse when my mom showed up and was freaking out because apparently the secretary who called her got our injuries mixed up and told my mom I broke my wrist—but that was the guy with the backpack. What a mess."

"Wait, hold on—you clobbered this guy so hard when you fell that you broke his wrist?"

" _I_ did not break his wrist," she said incredulously. "He was practically dragging his backpack on the ground—it's not my fault I tripped and fell. He was being careless; it was his own fault."

Rick gazed at her, clearly amused. "Bet you told him that to his face, too."

"No; he clearly knew it was his fault. Besides, that was before my rebel days; I was a bit more demure back then."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Rebel days?"

She laughed. "Yeah…guess I was a bit of a wild one."

His eyes flared wide. "Fascinating; tell me more."

"Rick!"

"I'm serious. C'mon—tell me." He begged while turning to face her on the couch.

And so she did. They talked about each of their high school and college careers like they never had before, swapping stories and sharing laughs. As their conversation moved past the hour mark, Kate was enjoying herself, but also found her chest growing more and more uncomfortable as presumably her morphine wore off. She excused herself to take one of the pain pills the doctor had given her, but as she walked away Rick suggested they call it a night.

"Oh, are you sure? I'll be fine after I take this," she responded, a bit disappointed to be the one ending their enjoyable evening.

"You were shot today," he said pointedly.

She gave him a pointed look. "That is an extreme misrepresentation of facts."

He shrugged. "Any way we put it: we both had a stressful day."

"Oh, um, speaking of—you can sleep in bed with me tonight—you know, if you want to." She added a bit more hesitantly. It seemed rather silly to make him sleep on the couch after they'd had sex.

He seemed surprised by the suggestion and she could feel her cheeks betraying her by turning a soft hue of pink. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I mean…why not? We've already seen each other naked so…" She forced out a laugh trying to lighten the mood.

His eyes darkened a bit and he took a step forward. "So…you're telling me that you sleep naked. Is that right Beckett?"

Her heart fluttered nervously. "Wha—no. No I don't usually sleep naked. I mean, unless…"

He quirked his eyebrow. "Unless?"

"Unless, um…" she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "I have a reason to…"

He stepped close enough to her to reach out and grasp her hip with his hand; she gasped when he pulled her body in closer to her. "A reason? I think I can give you one of those." Then, with that, he lowered his lips to hers and she didn't hesitate to kiss him back.

* * *

Walking into the precinct the next morning, Kate could not wipe the grin off her face. She was just _so_ happy. It was absurd, possibly a little bit ridiculous, but she honestly couldn't help it. She knew the prior night had been the start of something—something wonderful. And, okay, her mood was slightly dampened that morning when she woke up to find him gone from her bed without leaving a note or a text message to explain, but she was certain there was a good reason—there just had to be!

The night before, after having sex in her bed which, admittedly, was _much_ easier considering her injury, they lay together talking softly and laughing for twenty minutes before she felt as though she could hardly keep her eyes open any longer. Apparently sensing this, Rick had kissed her head and pulled the sheet up to her shoulders before settling down against the opposite pillow. By his actions from the entire day she was fairly confident, but that moment had been the one to convince her completely: they had a future ahead of them; they were going to be something special.

Though she'd suspected it in her gut for quite some time, the fact that he didn't seem to reciprocate her feelings had her constantly second guessing herself. Then, over the prior week, as they grew to be closer friends thanks to their forced cohabitation, Kate grew more confident in her belief that they belonged together. They just fit! Not once was there an awkward moment between them; right from the start it felt as though they'd always been together, which was why she anticipated that morning being the start of something new.

"Hey!" she said with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary for ten after eight in the morning. She sat down in her seat and immediately grinned at the man sitting across from her who appeared, at most, content. He was typing something on his keyboard and seemed quite focused so she waited thirty more seconds until he gazed at her between their computer monitors.

"Hey, how are you feeling today?"

"Fine, all things considered. It looks _horrible_ though—half my chest is black a blue."

He wrinkled his nose but then said, "At least it'll fade eventually."

"Right, well you'll-"

"Actually," he interrupted, "before I forget I wanted to let you know that I got an email last night saying I can get into my place on Saturday."

"Oh! Great!" She smiled, not feeling even the slightest bit disappointed. Well, okay, maybe five percent disappointed, but this was for the best. Of course Rick needed to get back into his place for no other reason than so he could stop wearing the same clothing again and again. Besides, beginning a relationship would be much easier now that they would be back to their normal routines.

"Yeah, so I think I picked up all my stuff before I left this morning, but if you find something just bring it in; no big deal."

She blinked, thinking she heard him wrong. "What?"

"I'm just going to crash on Espo's couch 'til then—it's only two more nights."

"But…" Her heart began to race as bewilderment settled into her mind. What was going on? What was he talking about?

He shrugged casually as he turned back to his computer screen. "I just want to be out of your hair. I mean, this was never supposed to last over a week, right?"

"But," she squeaked out before realizing her voice was a bit too loud so she lowered it, leaned across her desk and continued with, "what about last night?"

He glanced at her briefly before focusing on his screen with a heavy exhale. "Last night was nice, but it was a one-time thing."

"Seriously!?" Once again her voice was far louder than it should have been, but she couldn't help it; she was in shock. At no time during the prior evening had it been implied their coupling was a one-time event. In fact, since they'd done it twice, it was by definition not a one-time event!

He gazed over at her as casually as if they'd been discussing their different opinions on a new restaurant. "What?"

"Are you serious?" she hissed out, trying to keep the volume of her voice under control.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Jesus, Beckett, it was just sex; calm down."

"Bu—" She stammered out, her heart rate well into the triple digits. He had rolled his eyes at her—her! He was treating her as though she were some clingy floozy he'd picked up at a bar who refused to leave the next morning but surely—no—no! This was different, wasn't it? They weren't two people who only knew each other's first names! They were partners—friends! Why would he do this?

Still completely stunned, she watched him turn back to his computer, tilt his head quickly to the side and then reach up to adjust his shirt collar. He then cleared his throat, placed his hands back on the keyboard and tapped out a few more words. Her eyes skimmed over his face and she noticed a few droplets of sweat just above his temple. It wasn't warm at all in the precinct, so why was he sweating? Was he…nervous? If he was—

 _Oh_.

Suddenly, just as though she was reading a suspect in interrogation, it hit her.

She doubted very much that Rick thought of their night as disposable—at least, not to the extent his words implied, but he was afraid. It was entirely possible that she was the first "real" woman he'd slept with in quite some time. She wasn't someone he'd just met and barely knew anything about; they had a history. Given that, it was possible his intimacy fears were driving his behavior, so she decided to give him one more chance to change his mind.

"So that's it, huh? That's your decision?"

"What? What you even talking about?"

She got out of her chair and walked around their desks so she could stand beside him and speak in a tone just barely above a whisper. She rested her right hand on the desk corner and leaned down so their gazes lined up. "Last night I saw you—the real you. Not a front, not a playboy attitude from a guy who bounces from one bed to another, but _you_. Maybe that's why you're doing this—because it was too real. You're scared—I don't know why. Maybe it's your divorce, maybe it something else, but you're scared of what happened last night." Seeing that she had his full attention—actually, he didn't even appear to be breathing—she softened her expression and leaned in a bit closer. "You don't have to be scared, Rick; I promise. We can just-"

She stopped talking abruptly when he stood, took a step back from her and looked rather annoyed. "It was just sex, Beckett. We had a rough day, we had sex, and that's it."

Feeling the tears burning behind her eyes, she stepped back and dropped her chin. As her heart plummeted down to the depths of her chest, she muttered out, "I see; excuse me," and then she quickly turned and walked off towards the bathroom, certain she did not want any of her coworkers to see the tears that were about to fall.

* * *

Standing in front of the coffee maker in the break room, Rick rolled his head from side to side while waiting for the brew to finish. Despite one round of coffee and taking an aspirin he simply could not shake the headache he had. He suspected its origins came from getting just a few hours' sleep the night before. He had awakened at two and crept from bed before packing up his belongings in the dark and slinking off to the Twelfth where the horrendous breakroom couch did absolutely nothing to aid in his rest—but that was a different issue.

Just as he was about to lift the full carafe of coffee out of its slot, he was startled by an unusually loud greeting from his partners.

"Yo."

He looked at the stern-faced duo casually. "Morning. What's up?"

"You wouldn't happen to know why Beckett just ran past us looking like she was going to kill someone, would you?" Esposito asked.

"Really? You thought she was mad?" Ryan chimed in. "I kind of thought it looked like she just watched a puppy get run over by a car."

Rick filled up his coffee mug and then turned to them with a blank facial expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Espo continued. "Because considering you texted me at five o'clock this morning to ask if you could spend the next two nights on my couch I find it hard to believe you have no idea why Beckett is upset right now."

"Well, I don't."

Though he tried to push past them and exit the breakroom, each of his biceps was caught by one man and he was shoved backwards so roughly he nearly slopped the contents of his coffee mug down the front of him. As it was, some of the brown liquid splashed out and he cursed and reached for a paper towel while Esposito accused, "You slept with her, didn't you?"

Knowing ignorance would be his only hope of defense, Rick focused only on running a paper towel under the kitchenette sink and dabbing it against the front of his shirt. "Why is that your assumption?"

"Because of the facts. You did, didn't you?"

Rick remained silent and continued to dab for fifteen more seconds before both partners cursed in unison.

"Dude—what did we tell you? We asked you one thing?"

"Don't sleep with Beckett," Ryan answered for him.

"Don't sleep with Beckett." Esposito echoed. "And you slept with Beckett! What's the matter with you?!"

"Hey!" Feeling the tether on his patience snapping, Rick spun around and hissed in their direction. "She jumped in _my_ shower, okay? What was I supposed to do?"

Esposito folded his arms over his chest. "Well not be a dick about it in the morning for starters."

"I was not a dick!" He replied instantly. Then, thinking back to their conversation, he rounded his shoulders and admitted, "I may have been a bit of a dick."

As he was met with two skeptical expressions, Rick groaned and turned to face the counter. He rested both palms flat against the surface and dropped his chin to his chest. Even fifteen hours later he still wasn't sure what the hell had happened between he and Kate; it had all happened so fast!

His partners were entirely correct that they had confronted him very early on in his tenure at the Twelfth with their "Don't sleep with Beckett" request. At the time he had already made up his mind not to think of their lone female partner in any way other than professional, so he'd laughed off their concerns. And, really, it was none of their business what went on between he and Kate behind closed doors, but they all did need to work together in an environment that was delicate at times, which meant they needed to treat each other with respect and, sadly, his interaction with Kate that morning had not exactly qualified as such.

He honestly still wasn't sure what had gotten into him. She'd walked in that morning, so excited, so chipper and he just saw on his face the same thing he'd seen friends experience: _the girlfriend_. Within the span of three seconds he had visions of every minute of his life being meticulously planned out for him and never having any time to himself for the foreseeable future, and that had panicked him. Had he perhaps been too blunt with her? Probably. But this was Beckett they were talking about; she was going to be fine.

"You're an idiot," Ryan accused.

"Total idiot—and you'd better fix this for all our sakes." Esposito concluded.

Groaning as he felt another pinch behind his eyes, he picked up his coffee mug and pushed his way past the two men. "Guys, it's fine. Beckett's an adult. She just needed a few minutes and then we'll all be fine—you'll see." With that he pushed his way back to the breakroom and headed back towards his desk silently hoping his assessment was right.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading & Reviewing


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Okay—here you go, girl. Coffee's on me this morning after everything you've been through the past two days."

Kate let out a laugh as she accepted take-away cup of coffee from her medical examiner colleague and friend, Lanie. Between the bullet that struck her chest and all the drama with Rick, Lanie's comment felt like a grand understatement. "Thanks; I appreciate it."

Shaking her head, Lanie gazed over at Kate with mild disbelief. "I still can't believe you slept with him—finally!"

Kate's brow wrinkled at her friend's unusual sounding tone. Lanie made it sound as though Kate had finally dumped a crappy or even abusive boyfriend, but that could not have been further from the case. "Why do you say it that way?"

"Because you finally got him out of your system and now we can all move on—no more drooling, or goo-goo eyes, or 'Oh, Rick, you're _so_ smart,'" Lanie mocked in a sappy tone.

Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I was never that bad."

The ME balked. "That bad? Honey, sometimes your love eyeballs made the corpses nauseous."

"Lanie!"

"Kidding—mostly. But seriously, sweetie, I am sorry he didn't feel the same way."

Kate nodded in appreciation as Lanie's fingers grazed down her arm, still the comment frustrated her as such sentiments had been filtering through her mind for the prior twenty-four hours. "That's the thing, though–if it had been awkward or terrible I would be fine moving on and knowing whatever I thought we had was all in my head—but it wasn't. He felt it too—I know he did. The way he looked at me and kissed me…he felt something; I know it."

Over the prior day Kate felt as though she'd gone through a full spectrum of emotions: heartbreak, disappointment, rage, and frustration. She simply could not understand it! The way Rick treated her when they went to sleep was completely different than the prior morning. If things had been awkward after their shower maybe she could have understood, but they hadn't been. Hell—he had initiated round two! It just didn't make any sense at all.

"Men are idiots," Lanie concluded wisely.

Kate startled herself with how hard she laughed at the completely true assessment. "I know that."

"And Rodgers is the biggest idiot of all if he's not man enough to want you, but that's okay because that's why there's Todd."

Kate hummed into her coffee cup as she took a sip, thinking back to the night before when Lanie had called her out of the blue to ask if she was available for a double date that evening. As busy as Kate had been over the prior week, she had not had a chance to speak with Lanie since the day after the helicopter crash. Thus, Lanie had been aware that Rick was staying on her couch initially, but received no other information on the event.

During their call, Kate gave a brief summary of her time with Rick, the bullet that hit her vest, and the subsequent events in her apartment. Needless to say, Lanie had been shocked and had backtracked on her invitation, not wanting to pressure Kate into something she might not have been ready for. Kate told her friend she wanted time to consider the offer, but had texted Lanie within the hour to accept. Now, the morning after, Kate didn't want to say she regretted her decision to go on the double date, but she was certainly hesitant about it.

"I just don't want to jump into anything serious, Lanie."

Even if they did have just one night together, having an official conclusion to her feelings for Rick did feel like a breakup. Her feelings for him had begun over a year prior, grown steadily during that time, and peaked during the week he spent sleeping on her couch. She could have easily moved into an official relationship with him and not have thought twice about it. In fact, because of her feelings for him she had not been in an official relationship with anyone in the prior year. Two years, if she wanted to get technical about it, but only the prior year had been because of Rick. Considering that, she had no problem getting drinks with Lanie, her beau of the moment, and that man's friend, Todd, but she certainly was not looking for anything long-term.

"Girl, no one said this has to be serious—we're just gonna have some drinks and hopefully have a nice time and if Todd turns out to be a dud, so what? But at least-"

"I know, I know – at least I'm trying." Kate finished for her. Lanie smiled and flung out one arm to give Kate a half hug. She reciprocated briefly and added, "I'll see you later tonight."

With that, the women parted ways and Kate hurried her way uptown towards the Twelfth. As she crossed over a busy street of rush hour traffic, she let out a silent prayer for that morning to go better than the prior day had gone. Surely, it couldn't be worse, but she also didn't want things to be awkward; she hated awkwardness, particularly around coworkers, and she supposed this awkwardness was mostly her fault. She was the one who had over-the-top feelings for her colleague when all along she should have thought of him as nothing more than a friend.

The prior day after collecting herself in the bathroom, Kate returned to her desk and more or less ignored her partner as she completed the incident report and associated paperwork from her shooting the day before. She then needed to spend nearly forty minutes on the phone getting copies of her medical documentation from her hospital visit to submit along with her report. In that time, Rick disappeared from his desk, presumably to break for lunch, without saying so much as a word to her. Not that she minded; she was uninterested in having forced small-talk with him, particularly when she was still upset and annoyed.

By day's end she had completed her paperwork, but she and her partner still had not spoken. The tension filling their shared desk space was palpable, but she continued to focus on her tasks. Finally, as he was getting ready to leave, he said goodbye to her in a rather apathetic and dismissible way, but at least it had been something.

The last thing Kate wanted was for their jaunt into intimacy to ruin their partnership entirely. That was, of course, always a risk when friends slept together, but she really did not want that to be the case because despite everything they did have a good working partnership. She, Rick, Ryan, and Esposito had a bond and a rhythm and if one of them left the team, presumably Rick since he was the newest, the dynamic would simply not be the same. Though, if after everything he chose to depart their group the opportunity already existed since their co-team leader one was an experimental one.

As Kate entered the Twelfth she could not help but think that maybe it was for the best if Rick decided to leave the team. She would never ask him to go, but if he chose to leave it would make it easier for her to move past her feelings for him. Then again, it would still leave her heart with a gaping hole filled only by the question, "Why?"

* * *

"Wha…what's this?"

Rick felt his face flush when he heard the voice of his partner from across their shared desks. This was it; this was his moment of groveling—and grovel he would to put their world back in order once more.

After their day of silence and tension Rick hadn't slept much the prior evening. He lay on Esposito's moderately comfortable couch as the hours ticked by and he thought of all the ways he could have better handled the situation with Kate; there were dozens of them. Though he'd been miffed by their confrontation, he knew his partners had been right; he needed to fix things with Beckett before they degraded any further, though given how badly he screwed them up he knew the gesture had to be big.

On the way in that morning, he'd stopped at a florist and requested a large display of wildflowers. He wanted to stray away from roses or anything overtly romantic, but he still wanted flowers; friendly flowers. As the florist packed up the display with his simple, "I'm sorry," card, he had said, "I hope your girlfriend forgives you," and Rick almost rebutted the statement but then thought better of it. He imagined in ninety-nine percent of scenarios the florist's assumption would have been correct; that he was in the doghouse romantically-speaking. Why else would a man buy apology flowers?

In many ways Rick believed having his work partner be angry with him was worse than being in the same situation with a girlfriend. He was required to be around Kate for a minimum of eight hours every shift; it wasn't as though he could avoid her or ask her for a time-out. Not that he wanted to avoid Kate—he certainly never had in the past but at that particular moment things between them were complicated. Furthering this complication was the actual nature of their jobs. Practically every moment of their time in the field together involved high stakes, which meant they needed to trust each other fully and, at the very least, be on speaking terms with one another.

As he lay awake in the wee hours of that morning, the heavy weight of guilt settled on Rick's chest. The way he'd acted when Kate began to speak with him about their night together had been completely improper. Yes, at the time, he was reacting as a commitment phobic teen, which seemed to be his default setting when it came to complex romantic situations, but that was wrong and he needed to apologize thoroughly for it; she deserved better.

"Ah, yeah, those are from me."

She gazed down at the plastic-wrap covered vase of flowers for several moments and then gazed at him, not bothering to hide the utter disbelief written across her face.

Rick stood form his chair and walked around their desks so he could speak to her in a quiet tone. He'd managed to get in that morning early enough so that no one saw him place the flowers on Kate's desk. Surely, such an action would have invited suspicion about the true nature of their partnership, but that didn't mean he wanted to try and get away with just giving her an apology coffee; that didn't seem like nearly enough.

"I, ah, wanted to apologize to you. I shouldn't have acted the way I did yesterday morning. I was flippant and unkind and as my partner and my friend you deserved better than that and I'm sorry."

"Oh." She gazed at him a bit startled for a moment then looked down at the flowers and back to him. "Well, thank you."

He bobbed his head. "You're welcome. The truth is—what I should have said instead of avoiding my feelings—that we had a very nice night together and I don't regret it. I hope you don't either, but I'm just not looking for anything more right now." That statement, while to the point and not at all sugarcoated, was exactly what he believed to be the truth. He had known from the start that Kate was a girlfriend type of girl, not a one night stand, and he wasn't looking for a girlfriend. Could they have had a few more fun nights together? Absolutely and he would have been willing to partake in those, but he also knew that would not have been fair to her; she deserved someone who wanted the long-haul and that wasn't him.

He watched as she took in a deep breath and let it out slow. He momentarily braced himself for an adverse reaction from her, but it never came. Instead, she bobbed her head and said, "That's fair."

His heart fluttering with relief, Rick grinned and casually slipped his hands in his pockets. "Great! So we can go back to being friends?"

She gave him a look that expressed both amusement and mild confusion, but then she shrugged and said, "Sure Rodgers; we can be friends."

"Great!" He repeated. Then, feeling as though they needed to do something friend-like to solidify their agreement, he asked, "Wanna go see a movie tonight?" even though they had never actually seen a movie together before.

"Sorry, no," she said as she began to peel the plastic wrap away from her flowers. "I have a date."

Rick nearly choked on his own saliva, sure he had heard her incorrectly. "A—a date?!"

Amused, she balled up the plastic wrap and tossed it into her trash can while saying, "Yeah, a date; you must be familiar with the concept."

"But...how?" he said without thinking.

Instantly, her brow tightened and her lips pursed together. "That's not a very nice thing to ask."

Realizing he'd once again jammed his size-eleven foot into his mouth, he stammered out, "No—I'm sorry—I mean...I'm just...what?" They had just slept together! Barely thirty-six hours passed since he was in bed with her and considering that twenty-four hours earlier she had seemed as though she was going to suggest they further their relationship, he was shocked—shocked!—that she had a date so quickly. Maybe she hadn't taken their night together as seriously as he thought.

"Lanie called me last night and asked me to double with her and a new guy she met; I didn't have a reason to say no. I don't, do I?"

"N-no, of course not." He told her quickly. Well, that did make more sense if the date was brand new. And he had certainly been known to jump from one bed to another in a few days' time, so he couldn't judge her, even if he was slightly surprised. "Have, uh, fun on your date, Beckett," he said while backing his way towards his chair.

She smiled. "Thanks; I intend to."

As she scooped up the vase of flowers and walked off towards the breakroom, presumably to check the water level and add more if necessary, Rick sunk down in his desk chair and skimmed his fingers across his bottom lip as he processed their conversation. Kate had a date. That was, fine, of course; he didn't care. She could date whomever she wanted. And, really, it was probably a good thing that it was so soon. In his mind, he had already moved on from their night together and now it appeared she was doing the same, which was for the best; definitely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Rick Rodgers walked into his bedroom and blinked his eyes rapidly, adjusting to the abrupt contrast in lighting from the bright hall to the room illuminated only by a small lamp at the far end. As bed and surrounding furniture came gradually into view, he noticed a figure sitting atop the mattress. With soft curves and long flowing hair the figure was easy to discern as female, but who was it? How did she get there? Why was she there?

Rick took another step forward and the figure became clearer. "Kate?" he questioned, surprised by the fact that she was there at all, but then he took a step forward and noticed that she sat in the center of his bed with the sheet pooled around her waist and she was topless. He glanced down at her breasts and then up at the casual smile on her face and asked, "What's going on?"

"Come. Join me," she said in an ethereal tone. She smiled and gestured for him to come closer. Seeing no reason not to, he did.

Rick placed one of his knees down on the bed, about to descend, when suddenly the scene before him changed. Just above Kate's left breast a red mark appeared. It quickly blossomed into a pool of seeping blood, flowing down her chest, through the valley of her breasts, and onto the sheets below her. "Kate! Kate!" he cried out, reaching out his hand for her, but she slid further and further away. He cried and reached out her name, but she didn't respond, she didn't seem to hear him. She was simply—

Rick awoke with a start, yelping out a strangled sound and sitting upright in his bed. He brought his hand up to grasp the back of his neck, taking note of the sweat droplets that had formed there. He had been dreaming; it was all a dream.

He gazed around the room just to be certain, to convince himself that she wasn't actually there, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the chest, but she wasn't; he was alone.

Groaning, he flopped back against the pillows and stared up at the still-dark ceiling. For the prior two weeks, ever since he spent half of a night in her bed, Rick had regularly dreamed about his partner. He had dreamed about her before, of course, in the context of work, but now she was naked in nearly half of his dreams, some had even included more intimate activities. Each time Rick awoke from such vivid reveries he felt more confused than ever before.

Rolling his head to the side, he squinted at the alarm clock to see that it was just a few minutes after five in the morning. Considering his alarm was going to go off in twenty minutes and his heart rate still hadn't settled, he knew sleep would not return to him so he decided to get up and get an early start on his day.

As he stepped into the shower with water a bit cooler than he normally would have used, Rick asked the same question he'd been asking himself for the prior week: what the hell was wrong with him? Was he losing his mind? Had he been bitten by some sort of radioactive insect?

For the prior ten days he'd found his thoughts almost constantly focused on Kate. Her laugh, her smile, the way the hair fell across her cheeks when she gazed down at her desk in concentration. He fought to focus on other things to force her out of his mind, but it never worked. Two nights earlier, in utter desperation, he'd even gone out to a bar in hopes of picking a woman up. Several had been interested and he'd even kissed one of them as they stood out on the sidewalk, but that kiss felt catastrophically wrong, especially when compared to the memory of Kate's soft lips on his.

Jesus, he was losing his mind.

They were partners— _partners!_ And, yes of course he had always found her physically attractive with her soulful honey-brown eyes and cheekbones that could be seen from miles off, but despite that physical attraction there was a clear line in his mind that prevented him from feeling any more for her than friendship. They were colleagues and he respected her both professional and personally so thinking of her in a romantic way just wasn't plausible. Then, she was shot, and everything changed.

Kate—amazing, wonderful, beautiful Kate—had almost died. He almost lost her, but it didn't feel the same as the prospect of losing another one of his partners. Certainly witnessing Ryan or Esposito take a fatal bullet would have been completely distressing; they were like brothers to him, but Kate? Oh, Kate. She felt like coming home.

As he sat dutifully beside her in the hospital waiting for the results of her chest x-ray to be read by a physician, Rick struggled with these newfound thoughts. Kate was important to him—more so than just an ordinary partner. Somehow, over their two years together, those feelings had blossomed under the surface of his consciousness, completely unknown to him until he witnessed what he thought to be a grave injury. He was still wrestling with that confusing new layer to their relationship when she'd walked into the bathroom half-naked intent on interrupting his shower and ever since then nothing had made sense to him.

Rick was done with relationships. At least, that's what he told himself upon signing his divorce papers many years earlier. If he did one thing with the rest of his life, it would be not making that mistake again. He would instead focus on his career, date casually, and be satisfied with that. For the prior decade, that plan had worked well for him. He wasn't unhappy not having a long-term significant other in his life. In truth, he never really even thought about it, but was that truly how he wanted to keep living his life now that he was closer to age forty than not? Or did he want to break his previously adapted mantra and try his hand at something more serious? In his mind, doing so was his only opportunity to be with Kate.

Over their two years of working together, Rick liked to think that he'd gleaned a decent amount of knowledge about his partner. He knew how she behaved in their work environment quite well, and no one could go toe-to-toe with her in an interrogation room with her like he could. As far as how she was outside of work, his gained knowledge had taken nearly that full duration of time as she was one who played everything close to the vest, but if one thing was for certain it was that Kate Beckett was girlfriend material, not fling material. Kate was the type of woman who didn't need a man to complete her. She wanted a partner to enrich her life not make it more difficult. As such, she had only had one over the duration of the time he had known her.

But would she be interested in him that way? If he were to break his no-girlfriend decree and go back to her with a request to give things a shot, would she laugh in his face? She would have every right to given how he'd outright stated that he was not interested in anything more than their one night together, but would she give him a chance? Considering that she had been the one to initiate their intimacy she must have been interested at one time and—oh.

 _Oh_.

He thought back to the night nearly half a year earlier when she'd asked him why he never tried to sleep with her. At the time he thought she was trying to be a good partner and distract him, which she may have been doing, but what if there was a little bit of truth to her questioning? What if she actually had been interested all along? She invited him to the baseball game, and to stay at her place, and—shit. He was an idiot! She _liked_ him and he had screwed it all up—hadn't he?

God, it was all so confusing. His brain felt as though it was being spun round and round in circles, half the time deciding that it was best if he and Kate remained only friends and half the time deciding it would be worth trying to be with her because such a relationship could lead to happiness he had not yet experienced in his life.

 _But_ , the more skeptical side of his brain always challenged, _what if it didn't_?

When it came right down to it, Rick's only adult, post-collegiate relationship had gone up in flames. Yes, there were certainly extenuating circumstances involved, but it had still ended. Ever since he'd only had relationships that lasted a few weeks—if even that long. He was so out of practice, he was certain he would screw up whatever the next relationship he had next, and how could he do that to Kate? Surely if they embarked on a romantic relationship and it fell apart their work partnership would be irreparably damaged and he didn't want that. Yet, at the same time, he simply could not get her out of his mind—or his heart.

Growling in frustration, Rick finished rinsing the suds from his hair and roughly turned off the shower water. A few more days—he needed a few more days to think about things and then he would make a decision. Maybe, by some miracle, something in that time would give him some clarity.

* * *

Strolling down the precinct's stairwell the day following his shower decision, Rick thought mostly about their current case and the body of a dead woman discovered in her locked car. As the body did not appeared to be suffering from any obvious injury, drugs were suspected in her death, but Rick was reviewing the other facts of the case in his mind to make sure the story made sense. As he descended from the gym, where he'd spent his lunch hour lifting weights, he caught a glimpse of a recognizable figure dashing across the street despite the heavy traffic.

He stopped walking and leaned up against the window, wondering if Kate would be able to see him if he knocked and waved. Considering he was in between the fourth and fifth floors, probably not, but he tried all the same. As he watched her step up onto the sidewalk down below, he knocked and waved, but then stopped when he realized the man jogging behind her wasn't just in close proximity, but he was _with_ her as indicated by the way he snagged her elbow and she turned back to glance at him with a smile. They walked the next half block together before pausing in front of the Twelfth. They hugged and the man kissed Kate on the cheek before bidding her goodbye.

 _Oh_. Rick realized; so that was Todd.

He had heard about the stock broker acquaintance of Lanie's right from the start—he was the man Kate went out with two nights after they slept together—but he hadn't learned his name until a few days earlier, when Kate informed their team she was leaving early because Todd was taking her to a concert.

 _Todd_. Rick thought with a grimace as he descended the next set of stairs. Perfect stock broker with his perfect suits and funny jokes—Kate had said he was very funny. Todd! Funny! There was no way Todd was funnier than him! A stock broker with humor—who had ever heard of that?

And now to see them kiss out in the street in broad daylight. She just walked up to him and put her lips on him as if it was no big deal at all. And that was just so unbelievably—

Rick stopped walking mid-step as he recognized the emotion clawing through his chest at that particular moment. God, he was jealous, but that wasn't him! He didn't get jealous! He wasn't that guy! And yet there he stood, wanting to rid his gut of nausea by punching Todd squarely in the nose.

Was this it? Was this the decision his heart had made without consulting his brain? He didn't want to watch Kate kiss another man. He wanted to be that man—the one who took her to concerts and walked her home afterwards, to hold her body close to his and breathe in the cherry scent of her shampoo.

Before he could think any further on the subject, one of his colleagues coming in from a smoke break jolted Rick back to reality. He followed the man onto the homicide floor and arrived back at his desk just as Kate was taking a seat and logging back on to her computer. "Hey," she said to him, "enjoy your lunch?"

"Uh huh. You?" he asked on auto pilot.

"Yep…oh, look—that warrant we were waiting for came in while I was gone," she said, referring to the warrant they requested to visit the residence of Noah Vazquez, a known drug dealer with a history of priors, their victims roommate had said was a frequent visitor to their apartment.

"Great," he said, thankful to have a potential arrest as a distraction from the feelings swirling inside his chest. "Let's go."

* * *

"What are you doing?" Rick asked as he reached for the door of their squad car only to see Kate reaching in the back seat and retrieving her vest. Yes, technically they should have been wearing their vests while serving a warrant, but he rarely did, especially on days as warm as that one. He already sweat enough thanks to his long-sleeved shirt; why add Kevlar on top of that?

She glanced at him as she scooted forward in her seat to allow enough room to pull the item down over her head. "I just have a bad vibe about this place. Want yours?"

"I'm fine." Generally, he had a bad vibe about all places suspected drug dealers lived, but that didn't necessarily mean bad things were going to happen. Plus, of all the apartment buildings they served warrants to this one did not look particularly seedy and Vazquez's priors had only been for drug-related charges, not weapons. Yes, of course drugs and weapons tended to go hand and hand, but all they wanted to do was pick up the guy for questioning; it would be fine.

"Okay, so, Vazquez lives in 3D, which I can only assume means the third floor," Kate said as they approached the building from the available space they parked in, which was half a block away. "I think that-"

She cut off her speech sharply when a loud metallic clang coupled with a grinding noise was heard. Kate then stopped walking and gazed back at her partner, hissing, "What was that?"

He shook his head as he could not identify the sound. A moment later, he heard the grind-clang again and the probably source of the noise hit him. "Shit—the fire escape; I bet he saw us and he's running." The escape was on the opposite side of the building and thus out of view, but given the noise they heard it made sense.

"Okay—I'm on it; call for backup!"

"Beckett!" he called out after her, but it was too late; she had taken off running towards their suspect's building. Cursing under his breath, Rick jogged back to the car where he picked up the radio and placed a call for all available units in the area to respond to their address. With the call made, he then headed towards the alley only to hear the crashing sounds of an obvious commotion and what he thought was a female's scream.

Shit!

Taking off into a dead sprint, Rick raced towards the alleyway, each slap of his feet against the pavement echoing her name throughout his mind. _Kate. Kate. Kate._ His partner—what had she gotten herself into without him?

Skidding around the corner of the alley, Rick found the fire escape fully descended, meaning their suspect had already escaped to the opposite cross street. He continued through the narrow space, dodging the three knocked over metal trash cans, slipped between two foul smelling dumpsters and emerged onto the sidewalk once more only to be faced with a rather bizarre scene. Several dozen feet away sat an NYPD squad car with the driver's side door open. A patrol officer was collapsed on the sidewalk, supporting his body with his hands and keens on the concrete; he appeared rather dazed. Turning his head to his right, Rick saw the reason why: a pale shirtless man who he could only assume was their suspect trained a police issue weapon on his partner, whose stance mirrored his.

Shit!

No, no; not again. He would not watch Kate be shot for the second time in one month; he simply couldn't bear it. What if that time she was hurt worse? What if the bullet missed her vest? He could lose her while she still believed his feelings toward her to be nothing more than partnership, but that simply wasn't true! He wanted more time with her—time like they had when they lived together that week. It had been fun and nice and comforting to go home with her at the end of a stressful day, because she made him happy and she made him feel as though he mattered and he was important and he made a different. She made him feel…love.

 _Love_!

Suddenly, Rick's world began to move in slow motion as he turned towards the standoff between his partner and their suspect. As though he'd suddenly been blessed with a superpower, he could see the suspect's finger twitch above the trigger and simply knew he was about to fire the gun, so he sprang into action.

"Beckett!"

Rick took two running leaps forward before launching himself into the air, tilting his body towards hers as he flew for what felt like minutes but in reality must have only been a fraction of a second. Just as his arms knocked into hers, setting her off balance, he heard the crack from the firing of the gun. By the time they crashed to the ground he felt it—the searing pain spiraling across his shoulders and chest—the pain that could only come from a bullet tearing through his flesh.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for your reviews everyone!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Kate Beckett grunted with discomfort when she suddenly found herself on the ground, her partner heavy atop of her. She cursed and tried to roll over, only to register the trickle of red streaming down the arm of his light-blue dress shirt. Shit! The bullet hadn't missed them both, but struck him instead of her!

Furious she'd allowed herself to be rattled off task by her body's impact with the ground, thereby endangering them both, she snatched up her weapon and aimed one well-placed shot to their aggressor's thigh, sending him to the ground with a yelp. Scrambling as best she could to get out from under Rick, Kate rolled over to her stomach and then jumped up, setting her feet beneath her. She cradled her weapon between both hands as she approached the man on the ground slow and steady. "Stay down; keep your hands where I can see them," she warned him; he moaned pathetically.

Still on-edge, Kate took two steps closer to the man curled up on his right side. She took note that the weapon was still in his hand, so she raised hers. "Drop the gun; throw it towards the street." She commanded, but the perp had other plans. She watched his fingers tighten around the gun and had barely uttered, "Don't!" when he began to lift the barrel and aim it in her direction. Fearing for her safety and that of her already-injured partner, Kate fired two quick shots to the man's naked chest and he slumped back on the pavement, dead.

Kate hurried over to him and snatched the gun away before reaching out two fingers and holding them to his pulse point to confirm what she suspected. She shook her head, frustrated with the man's decisions that had ended his life, before turning around and slowly standing upright. There, just a few feet away, she saw the rookie officer who had been relieved of his gun by the suspect approaching and gave him a scowl.

As she was in the middle of dodging trash cans and their debris, Kate had not seen the incident transpire, only heard yelps and grunts, but somehow the suspect had come into possession of this officer's weapon and in Kate's mind that was entirely unacceptable. Presumably picking up on her fury, the man began stammering out an apology, but she cut him off with sharp directions. "Go; call for an ambulance. Tell them there's an officer down. NOW!" She added when the man continued to stare at her a bit dumbstruck.

Once the rookie had scurried off, Kate holstered her weapon and rushed to the side of her partner, who was curled up on the sidewalk, groaning with pain. "Oh god, Rick; you're hit." She gasped when she rolled him more towards his back and she could see just how soaked with blood the chest and arm of his shirt appeared. She couldn't even tell where the bullet had entered! "Jesus! You weren't even wearing a vest—what were you thinking?!"

"Didn't want you to get shot…again…" he managed through gritted teeth.

"I'm wearing a vest!"

"But it could have missed! Shit!" He yelped when she skimmed her fingers over his chest; she instantly recoiled. "My father was right this hurts like a mother—ah!" He screamed when she grabbed a hold of his left wrist. Gazing at her with frantic eyes he demanded, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to make sure you don't bleed to death."

Kate traced the blood flow up his arm to the front of his shoulder until she spotted the tears in his shirt and thus the suspected entry point. Though she knew it would be uncomfortable for him, she pressed the heel of her hand down on the wound and he cried out in pain. "I know I'm sorry; I'm sorry. I'm just trying to stop the blood."

"I'm fine; I'm fine. Shit—what the hell happened?"

She shook her head, her heart clenching at the way his face contorted in pain. God! Rick! Knowing she couldn't think about worst case scenarios, she tried her best to answer his question. "I, ah, I'm not entirely sure. Somehow our suspect got the drop on that patrolman and managed to pull his weapon out while I was climbing over those trashcans. It went downhill from there."

"Clearly—ah—shit!" He cursed when she readjusted her grip on his shoulder upon noticing the blood still seeping out beneath her palms.

"Sorry."

She heard him suck in a deep breath and blow it out through his lips. He did this twice more before looking up to her with a slightly pitiful expression. "Listen, Kate, I have to tell you something."

She shook her head. "No, shh; save your energy."

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth before opening them and grunting out. "No, no, if I don't make it there's something I have to tell you."

The pressure of her palms against his shoulder went a bit slack. "If you don't make it!? You just said you were fine!"

He glared at her. "Would you stop running my moment here? I'm trying to make a grand gesture!"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes she said, "God sorry."

"I think I'm in love with you."

Kate felt all the breath evaporate from her chest as she froze in position and gazed down at him with no small amount of shock. What had he—how was he—what in the—No. No, surely she had heard him wrong. "What?"

Gazing at her steadily despite the fact that his face contorted with pain every few seconds, Rick continued, "I love you and I'm a total idiot. You were right–I was scared out of my mind after we slept together because it was the best night I've had with anyone—ever. That's what I love about you; you call me out on my bullshit."

"It's not hard; you're full of a lot of it," she managed despite the fact that her brain was positively spinning from the words he was speaking to her.

"Thanks. I just…I don't even know what I'm saying, but I swear this isn't the pain talking it's—it's the past few weeks. Things started to change when we were living together, but I didn't see it—I didn't realize until you started dating… Todd." He grimaced, though obviously not from the pain in his shoulder. "I hate that you're with him, because I want you to be with me even though I know I don't deserve you after the way I've treated you, and I'm sorry for that—how I acted—but I swear—I swear I would—fuck that hurts."

"Sorry," Kate muttered upon realizing she was pressing a bit harder than necessarily on his shoulder due to her shock from his speech. Sniffing back some tears she said, "You, um, you need to relax; save your strength."

"But I love you!"

She shook her head just as she heard the merciful sound of sirens in the distance. "Shh; it's okay. The ambulance is going to be here any second now."

"But-"

"No, shh." She managed, leaning down over him so that their foreheads touched and she could see him finally shut his eyes. "It's okay, Rick; you're going to be okay."

Within thirty seconds the ambulance came to a screaming halt on the street beside them. The EMT's jumped out with their gurney and Kate was quickly shooed away so that they could work. As they lifted her partner and friend onto the stretcher, Kate gazed down at her hands, trembling and blood covered, wishing she could brush the tears from her cheeks, but instead she simply let them fall.

Rick had said…dear, god, he had said…but despite his instance to the contrary, she simply could not believe his sentiments were not born of his injury. His body was losing blood and going into shock so of course he would say something a bit insane, something a bit desperate. Yes, for the most part his speech had made sense as he referenced their time together and his distaste for Todd, but there was no way he was in love with her; it simply wasn't possible.

"Detective?"

Kate lifted her head when the EMT called out for her and then quickly used the backs of her wrists, the least blood saturated part of her skin, to brush at the tears on her cheeks. "Yes?"

"Your partner's injury isn't life threatening. Do you want to ride with us?"

"Ah…" She glanced down at the body on the sidewalk and then over to the green-looking rookie who seemed near a state of panic. Yes, she did want to ride with Rick to the hospital, but duty overtook those desires, particularly with the knowledge that he was going to be all right in the long run. "No; I should stay here. Tell him I'll meet him there later?"

"Yes ma'am," the EMT said. Then, with that, jumped in the back of the ambulance and shut the doors, leaving Kate behind on the sidewalk to watch it drive away as she wondered what the hell had just happened.

* * *

As Rick slowly returned to consciousness he became aware of a heavy feeling on his left side. His arm and chest felt thick, as though weighted down with pounds and pounds of fabric. Also, beneath the surface, he felt a dull, persistent ache. God, what was that?

Grunting and groaning as he came to, Rick shuffled his feet and tried to move his arm, but immediately yelped as the ache became a sharp, stabbing pain.

"Hold still, Rick; try not to move too much."

His eyes popped open at the gentle sounding voice and Rick came face to face with his partner, a kind but concerned expression on her face. "Kate?" he mumbled out before wiggling his tongue around in his mouth in search of moisture. God, it felt like he'd gargled sand.

Evidently sensing his discomfort, he watched his partner reach off to the side and then return with a paper cup in one hand and a spoon in the other. She scooped the spoon into the cup, retrieved several ice chips, and then delicately placed them into his mouth. He shut his eyes and let the ice roll across his sandpaper tongue; much, much better. "Thank you."

She hummed. "You're finally coming to, then?"

"What's that mean?" he asked, eagerly taking a few more ice pieces.

"You've been mumbling off and on for about five minutes, but not really making much sense. Do you know where you are now?"

He blinked a few times, swallowed the now-melted ice, and tried to focus his eyes on the room surrounding him: all white, industrial, fancy monitors and machines. Definitely a hospital since—shit!—he'd been shot! "Oh, god, my arm…is it still there? They didn't have to amputate did they!?" he asked, slightly delirious as he gazed down at his left side just to make sure it was still intact.

"No!" Kate insisted with a half-laugh. "You'll be fine with some rest and rehab."

"Good…I'd be far less attractive with only one arm—or maybe I could have had a mechanical hook that came with super human strength!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Glad your sense of humor has returned."

"Mmm hey wait—what are you doing here? What happened to our suspect?" he asked as the fog in his head began to fade and he better recalled the scenario surrounding the bullet in his shoulder.

"Our suspect is dead since he decided not to heed my warning and drop the weapon he was trying to point at me."

Rick felt his lips tightened, knowing it was never easy for anyone to make an on-the-job kill, however justified. The two times he'd done it weighed on him and he knew she felt similarly about her three, now four. "I'm sorry."

She gave a little shrug. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt worse. As for why I'm here: I called your parents, but I don't think their train is here quiet yet; I didn't want you to wake up alone."

"Oh, that's…so sweet…" he said, almost with surprise. After his very impromptu confession of his feelings he wasn't sure what their status would be, or how she would behave towards him, but he hoped to find out, not wanting to prolong the inevitable. "So about earlier…what I said to you…"

Her brow rose with surprise. "You remember that? I mean, you weren't going into shock?"

He shook his head. "I meant every word." Yes, okay, his admission had been fueled by the moment for sure, but that didn't make his feelings less valid—even if they surprised him. The truth was her shooting and subsequently his were the kick in the pants he needed to see the truth: that his partner was very important to him and his feelings for her ran deep. The "L word" had startled him when it popped into his mind, but he was growing more and more comfortable with it. Most importantly: he was ready to take a chance on them.

Her chest rose as she took in a deep breath and gazed down at him. "The thing is, Rick-"

"I know." He exhaled heavily and gazed down at his white polka-dotted hospital gown. "You're with someone; I missed my chance." Though the realization hit him heavily, he couldn't be mad at her. He had been the one to act flippantly after their night together; he had been the one to insist that he wanted nothing more. Kate had every right to move on from that. Though he knew in the coming days, particularly when his pain meds wore off, he would be very disappointed and angry with himself, but not at her.

Gazing up at her once more he said, "You deserve to be happy, Kate, and I hope he makes you happy."

She gave him a sad little smile and rested her hand gently atop his right bicep. "You should rest and enjoy the good drugs while they last."

This comment drew a smile from his lips. "I will."

"I'll talk to you later. And—thanks for being my partner, taking that bullet."

"Any time—except," he winced as he tried to shift his body against the mattress and felt a stab of pain radiate down his left arm, "maybe not too soon?"

She gave him a serious look. "Obviously." Then, she squeezed his bicep again and turned to leave, only to be met at the door by his parents as they entered. "Perfect timing," he heard her say, right before his mother's squeal interrupted.

"Oh Richard! Darling!"

"I'm fine Mother." He grunted when she flung her body over his right side and grabbed tightly to his right arm, which was resting across his stomach. "I promise I'm fine—at least, that's what Kate told me and I don't think she'd lie."

"Oh, Kate!" His mother stood upright again and then glanced around the room searching, but the room was vacant but for his immediate family members. "Where did she go? She was just here!"

Rick dropped his chin to his chest and felt his heart sink similarly, believing her quick exit to be mostly his fault. "She doesn't want to be around me, probably."

"Why not?"

"That's a long story," he sighed out then tried to shift in bed once more only to feel a stabbing pain. Damn he needed to remember not to move like that! "I'll, ah, tell you more when I'm on less pain meds."

His mother eyed him carefully. "You might be on too many—she sounded so distraught when she called me; she cares about you."

"I think that ship has sailed." While he had no doubt that Kate cared enough about him to be upset when she saw him get shot, she had made it very clear that she had moved on from thoughts of having anything romantic with him—just like he'd told her to. More or less, anyway.

"Then pull it back to shore."

"Martha…" Jackson sighed exasperatedly, speaking for the first time since they arrived in the hospital room.

She whipped her head around to give him a pointed look. "Don't you want our son to be happy, Jack? This girl—Kate—makes him happy; that much is obvious."

"Hey, guys, you know what would make me happy?" Rick interjected as the pulsing throb in his left arm grew a bit more persistent. "Drugs. Lots more drugs."

His mother gave him a sympathetic look and brushed her hand over his right forearm. "I'll see if I can find a nurse, darling, you just hold tight."

Rick muttered a thank you and then watched her go before turning his eyes towards his father and saying, "Thanks for coming; I appreciate it."

Jackson bobbed his head and approached his son's bedside. "Your partner told us you took the bullet for her even though you weren't wearing a vest. Is that true?"

A mirthless laugh escaped his lips and then he winced at the pain the jolt of his ribcage caused. "Ah, yeah. Stupid right?" Just what he needed as his morphine wore off—a lecture from his father about on-the-job protocols.

"Yes." Jackson paused for a moment before continuing. "But also very brave. And noble. And not something I'm sure I would have done myself—don't know if I ever liked one of my partners well enough for that."

Somewhat surprised by his father's wry smile, Rick stammered, "Ah, yeah, well, ah, Beckett—she's worth it." He honestly believed that, too. Of course he wished he had heeded Beckett warning and put on a vest before they left the squad car, but even despite the pain he would make the same decision again just so he didn't have to watch her suffer the fate of a bullet wound ever again.

Jackson studied his face for a moment, then reached out his hand and stroked it over the top of Rick's head, ruffling his hair slightly. "Glad you're all right, son."

Rick immediately felt his chest tighten for an entirely different reason as a rare moment of affection from his father was something else worth being shot for. Though he hesitated to think it for fear of being too hopeful—and also too under the influence of narcotics—he wanted to believe the selfless act of saving his partner from injury had gained him respect in his father's eyes—the respect that he'd craved ever since he was an eight year old boy. Maybe it had, though he supposed only time would tell, but for the moment he would enjoy the affection.

Shutting his eyes and leaning into his father's touch he sighed out, "Thanks Dad."

* * *

 **A/N** : thank you all so much for your reviews. Remember: only 1 chapter left :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Tapping out the last few letters on the last word he intended to write, Rick punched the period key with his right index finger. Finally! He moved his right hand over to the mouse and used it to click the "send" button and then leaned back in his chair and groaned, ever-frustrated. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to type an email that normally would have taken less than five. He had no idea how much more difficult it would be to type with just one hand—stupid shoulder!

All things considered, Rick knew that he was very lucky with regards to his shooting. The bullet had entered his upper chest just below his clavicle and exited through his armpit, breaking only one of his ribs in the process and no other bones. He had plenty of muscular and soft tissue damage, which arguably could be more frustrating to heal, but he was still lucky. Though with his left arm in a sling and strict orders to move it as little as possible for four weeks, he didn't always feel that day.

Ten days after the shooting he was back at work for the first time, restricted to desk duty. Ryan and Esposito had jumped at the opportunity to have him request all their warrants and push the paperwork they didn't want to. Having no other choice, he slogged through, but also knew the next three weeks would go by very, very slowly.

The one bright side for him was being back at his desk across from Kate. During his time off, they'd only been in minimal contact: a few text messages here and there plus one phone call the day he'd come home from the hospital. She'd been kind and polite, but ever insistent that he needed to take it easy and rest. Given how much pain he'd been in those first few days, he didn't have trouble following her advice, but now that he was back and his discomfort was under control, he gazed across their joined desks at her and felt most the disappointment of a missed opportunity.

She had been right there beside him—rather, he had been beside her in her bed—but he had to go and act like a moronic commitment-phobic teenager and push her away. What a fool he'd been! Now, he had to watch as she grew closer to Todd—or, if not him, someone else. He knew ultimately he would be able to accept their missed opportunity and move on, but he also suspected it would be a very, very long time before he didn't want her anymore.

"Having fun over there, Rodgers?"

Rick startled a bit at the unexpected voice of his partner. Gazing over, he saw she wore an amused expression, which he did not appreciate in the least. "No. I can't do anything with this worthless thing," he said, gesturing with his right hand towards the arm bound to his chest. "It's miserable."

"I'm sorry to hear that; I'm sure it's very frustrating."

He scoffed. "You don't know the half of it."

She hummed and gazed at him curiously for a moment before saying, "Well, at least the day's almost over. One down; twenty shifts to go."

He gave her an unappreciative look. When put that way, it sounded worse! "You're not helping."

She laughed and shrugged. "So do you have any plans tonight? Other than bellyaching and being pathetic, I mean."

"Hey!" he squeaked with offense. "I took that bullet for you—you're not allowed to call me pathetic."

She grinned. "Fair enough. So do you have plans?"

"Not really…" he responded, his tone mildly spurious. Unable to hold in his curiosity, he added, "Why do you ask?"

"No real reason," she said with a casual shrug as she adjusted a stack of papers on her desk so that they were neater. She, too, was taking a break from field work since her partner was out of commission. He had insisted that he didn't mind, and she could go out with Ryan or Esposito whenever she wanted, but he did appreciate the solidarity for however long it lasted. "I just thought maybe, well, did you want to go to a movie?"

His eyes widened with surprise. "A movie? With you?"

Her brow crinkled, amused. "That was the general idea, yes."

Now more suspicious, he asked. "…why?"

"Well, as you just said, you took a bullet for me. I figure the least I can do is take you to a movie, or dinner, or both."

"Oh." He commented, notably surprised. He had not been expecting such an invitation about her, but certainly wasn't upset about it. His egotistical side eagerly anticipated being praised and fawned over for his selfless act, though naturally it was not at all why he had done it. He had, however, grinned for the better part of a half hour when earlier that morning he walked into the bullpen to a round of applause. Now, if Kate wanted to thank him further with dinner and a movie, he appreciated the gesture, but given their recent romantic tryst he wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea. Surely, spending more time with Kate outside of work would make it more difficult for him to move past his feelings for her.

"That, um, sounds nice, Kate, but I don't want to do anything that would upset your boyfriend," he said as a cheap, but plausible excuse.

"You mean Todd? Oh, no; we broke up," she said with a flippant hand gesture.

"You—you what?!" Rick spluttered out, having no idea that she was no longer with the man Lanie had set her up with—the one she claimed to be both funny and sweet; a threatening combination.

She shrugged. "Yeah, it's been about a week or so I guess now." She finished stacking up the papers on her desk, stood, and then walked over towards his chair. Stopping just a few inches from him, she leaned her backside against his desk, gripped the edge of it with her hands, and gazed down at him as she spoke in a quieter tone. "I really liked him—he was a great guy: kind, smart, and gentlemanly. Perhaps not the most exciting person in the world, but a good, solid guy."

"So…" he began, sensing there was much more to what she was saying. Even though he was not entirely sure he wanted to know the nitty-gritty details, he could not help himself from continuing with, "Then why did you break up."

She smiled, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with her right hand, and then dropped that hand so that it landed atop his. Gazing at him directly she said, "Because…he wasn't you."

Rick instantly felt his heart do a summersault in his chest and he exhaled, "Oh…Kate…" He'd thought his chance with her was gone forever, but there she was smiling at him and holding his hand and somehow in his gut he just knew— _he knew_ —they had a real chance. Flipping his hand over, he gripped onto her fingers with his and exhaled, "Kate."

"Shh," she hushed, glancing around quickly, though she still wore a smile. "Not here; we can't make this too public remember?"

He gazed around too. Right—the no fraternization between partners policy. Giving her hand another little squeeze, he scooted closer to her in his chair so that his knees bumped up against her thigh. "So then how about we get out of here?"

"Movie or dinner?"

He shook his head as a much more brilliant idea crossed into his mind. "Neither—how about you pay me back for taking that bullet by coming over to my place?" he suggested, his tone ever-deepening.

Obviously picking up on his implication, her eyes flared wide. "Rick!" she hissed. "You just had surgery—are you sure that's a good idea?"

He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. "I dunno; let's find out." Could they jump into his shower and have an adventurous round of sex there? Most likely not, but if his left shoulder was the only part of him that was truly injured, they could surely work around it. Honestly, he was going to be most disappointed about not being able to touch her body with both of his hands, but he'd get over it.

"Okay—but!" she added quickly as he hopped out of his seat. "We're not doing anything that will derail your healing process, okay?"

"Derail?" He scoffed. "This is going to help it—trust me."

* * *

Trailing behind Rick as he led the way into his apartment, Kate simply could not stop smiling; she was just _so_ happy. Finally! Finally they were going to be together and give their personal relationship a real shot. She was under no illusion that their transition from platonic to romantic partners would be smooth. In fact, given Rick's shaky history with romantic relationships, she knew many pitfalls lay before them, but she was willing to be patient with him as long as he was committed to being with her, and it seemed he finally was.

After she realized he was serious about his post-shooting confessions, Kate thought very long and hard about the status of her romantic life. She was dating Todd, but only casually. As it had only been a few weeks, they weren't anything official yet; they hadn't even had sex. She did like him, though, and had Rick not confessed his feelings for her she probably would have continued to date him, but Rick had confessed his feelings for her—more feelings than she'd ever anticipated.

If while bleeding on the sidewalk Rick had confessed that he made a mistake and wanted to try a romantic relationship with her, she probably still would have made the decision to break up with Todd, but hearing that Rick was falling in love with her really was a game changer. Such sentiments meant that her gut instincts about their week of cohabitation were correct; they were becoming something more. As being with Rick was something she had wanted for a very long time, she knew she had to give them a chance if he was interested. Still, she was a bit afraid once the haze of the injury wore off, he would have second thoughts, which was why she gave him a week of distance so he could recover and reset himself.

Knowing he would be returning to work that morning, Kate had thought about how she would approach him to inquire about his feelings. The night before, she'd almost talked herself out of it, fearful that because of his conclusive statement in the hospital he would have moved on, but the moment she caught him gazing longingly at her while she poured a cup of coffee for him she knew he still felt the same and was even more thrilled she was able to come up with a playful and creative way to reveal how she felt about him.

Due to their concern over being seen by a colleague, she and Rick had a relatively platonic subway ride home. Fearful of having to hold himself upright if the car suddenly stopped, Rick chose to sit and she stood beside him, holding on to one of the support bars. The car had been too crowded for them to do anything other than smile at each other, which they'd continued to do in the sappiest of ways (and she loved it!). On the walk to his apartment building, she'd grabbed on to his hand, but that was the most intimate thing that they'd done. Now that they were safely inside his apartment, though, she felt no shame in looping her arms around his neck, rising up on her toes, and kissing him soundly.

Rick hummed into her mouth while gripping onto her hip with his right hand; Kate chortled happily. She pressed a few kisses to his bottom lip before stepping back to give herself enough room to shrug out of her restrictive blazer. She also toed off her shoes and left them by the door before turning and seeing an expression on his face so peculiar that she asked, "What's wrong?"

He hummed and skimmed his fingers over his chin. "Nothing—nothing's wrong I just…I guess I'm kind of wondering why you took me back."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You really want to question that?"

"Kind…of…?"

She laughed at his uncertainty and then led the way towards his sitting area, where she folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to sit too before she began her slightly embarrassing confession. "The truth is…I've kind of had a crush on you for a while—except it's kind of more than a crush."

He studied her for a moment before blurting out, "But you kept calling me an asshole!"

Kate let out a loud laugh at the unexpected comment. Reaching over, she landed a hand on his knee and told him sincerely, "A well-deserved accusation every time."

His brow wrinkled. "I'm confused."

She merely shrugged. "So was I, for a while. There was just something about you. I can't explain it—in fact, I tried to ignore it—but the more I got to know you I saw it. You, the genuine you—the guy who hung out at my apartment for that week; the kind, generous friend; the man who went out of his way to make jokes so that a scared little kid would smile. He was so different than the detective desperately trying to fight his way out from under his father's shadow."

Rick's eyes widened and he brought up his right hand to comb back through his hair. "Oh. Well. You've got me pretty pegged, don't you?"

"I am a detective." She winked at him and they shared a laugh before he reached out to cover her hand where it still rested on his leg.

"But seriously—you have me really pegged—right down to me being afraid of relationships because of my divorce, but I promise I'm going to try—I don't want to mess this up."

"I know." She leaned in to give him a quick kiss, then another kiss, and then another. As she kissed him, she trailed her left hand down his chest, over his belly, and down towards his hip until she reached the juncture of his legs and caressed him through his trousers; he gasped into her mouth. She nipped lightly at his bottom lip and brushed her thumb back and forth against him until she could feel his arousal through his jeans. Leaning back, she gazed up at him and said, "Can I thank you for saving my life now?"

"Jesus Christ yes."

She chuckled inwardly at his moan, leaned into kiss him once more, and then reached for the zipper on his pants.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, lying with her head resting against his thigh so as not to accidentally injure his upper body, Kate gently traced her finger over her partner's patella. His hand lay across her shoulder, a bit heavier than it had been for the prior ten minutes. She suspected that he'd drifted off to sleep, but she didn't mind. She imagined his first day back was tiring, even if he had just been filling out paperwork.

For several more minutes she lay there, smiling to herself and day-dreaming about her future as Rick Rodger's girlfriend, when she heard him snuffle and felt his hand drop from her shoulder, signaling that he'd woken up. Rolling onto her back she gazed up and he smiled down at her, lazy and sated. He brushed his fingertips over the apple of her cheek and she cradled her hand against his as she turned to kiss the tips of his fingers. Looking back up to him she asked, "Are we going to tell people about this?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Your amazing blow job skills? I was considering writing a mass department email but-"

"ROGERS!" she scolded, poking a sharp finger into the soft flesh of his belly.

He winced and grunted, but said nothing else knowing he'd earned the scolding. "Kidding, kidding," he managed before she struck again. "But, um, yeah? I guess? Why wouldn't we?"

She rolled her body upwards and then turned one hundred eighty degrees so she could face him properly. "Department policy—Montgomery will break up our team."

"Well I don't want that, but we have to tell people eventually, right?"

"But when's eventually?" she challenged.

He merely shrugged. "I don't know, Kate; truly. I don't know if I remember how to do any of this and considering that maybe we can just keep it to ourselves for a little while." She nodded, agreeing with him. A moment later, he smiled and reached out to caress her shin. "Besides, it'll be fun having a sexy, secret affair, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "You can be so dramatic."

He quirked his head to the side. "I get it from Mother."

"Clearly."

Squeezing her leg a bit tighter he said, "I have to have some outlet for my creativity, Kate. Can't do it in my reports—Montgomery yells at me if they're too flowery."

Kate merely laughed, shook her head, and leaned back against the couch, teasing him by saying, "Then maybe you should just write a book or something."

He leaned forward and smiled. "You know that's not a half bad idea. Maybe I will." And then, with that, he kissed her.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you all so mcuh for reading & reviewing. I know it probably wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but I appreciate those that stuck with it

Next, I will be posting **Back to the Beginning**

see you saturday!


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